


How To Play And Win

by graceverse



Category: One Tree Hill
Genre: F/M, Laley Friendship, Naley, Naley S1, Nathan POV, bit of Brucas and Leyton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 82,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23732398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graceverse/pseuds/graceverse
Summary: The way to deal with this Lucas thing is through the only way I understand: basketball.
Relationships: Haley James Scott/Nathan Scott
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	1. Basketball is the Name of the Game

**How To Play And Win:** ****  
_A Strategic Plan on Bringing Down Shit-Faced Bed Stain Bastard Son Lucas Scott_ _  
by Nathan Scott_

**Chapter One: Basketball Is The Name of The Game**

Seven AM. Tree Hill High Gym. Ball handling warm up.

The smell of aftershave, soap, rubber, stinky gym socks and sweat is strong. Familiar. It's been like this every day for the past three years my life, ever since I joined the varsity team. But today is nothing like the rest of those days and nothing will ever be the same after today. Everything is about to go haywire with my life. I can feel it. And it has everything to do with my bastard brother, Lucas Scott.

The sound of squeaking shoes is extra louder and it makes me wince. I should not have drunk the vodka Tim had brought over at the house last night. Not only did he manage to kick my ass at NBA Live - only Tim would stoop so low just to win at NBA live - my head now feels like it is swimming in mud.

I take a deep breath and try to shake off the stiffness from my muscles. I just gotta get through this day. After this, I can just ditch Algebra 2. I'm pretty sure my teacher would let me sleep through class. He's a big basketball fan and he knows that coach practically massacres us for early morning pre-game drills. He'll understand. He has definitely let me sleep at my desk a couple of times before. I just need to remember his name when he asks for my score from the last game.

_I scored 38 points, Mr. Jefferson. I'm still pretty beat._

No, _wait_. Mr. Jefferson is my Senior English teacher.

Crap. Mr. Horovitz? Horowitz? Hopskin?

I wonder if Tim knows his name. Tim must know his name, he's flunking Algebra 2 big time. There's no reason for him not to remember the teacher who's been giving him nothing but F ever since this term began.

"Nathan, pay attention!" Coach barks at me and I snap my head and eyes back to coach's bald shiny head.

Ugh. Shit. Wrong move. Now I feel nauseous.

"Is there something wrong, Nathan?"

Wrong? Well, let's see. I have a killer hang over. Lucas Scott is part of the team. My father is still a pain in ass. Peyton acts like I have ceased to exist and I could not care less. Also, I think I have a quiz on history, which, by the way, I am going to completely flunk. So I don't know sir, you tell me. Is there something wrong?

I bite my tongue hard and shook my head. "No, sir, nothing wrong at all." I drawl out after a few seconds.

Coach Whitey looks at me and rolls his eyes up. It is the: 'Why Did I Ever Let The Spawn of Dan Scott Play for the Ravens Roll Of The Eye' and I'm just about to do the same thing - which I knows irritates the hell out of him - when I remember that I have sworn not to do anything stupid today. At least nothing that coach would think of as stupid.

Which is pretty much everything that I would do, on any given, normal day.

Damn.

Coach is yelling at us and normally, around this time I'll be answering back, smarting off - not 'cause I'm trying to be a pain in the ass, but because I _can_. It's common knowledge around here that while the other guys can barely even breathe whenever the coach is on his endless rant modes where he calls us all 'Ladies', I can get away with pretty much anything. Coach can't bench me this season. We're still on a winning streak and even he does not want to break that.

Coach is still seething over last season's record which also should not be uttered whenever he's within hearing shot and that translates to ‘Never’. Capital N. Coach has got fucking bionic ears, so he hears practically everything.

Well, whatever. The only reason I talk back, from time to time, is to show the rest of the guys, in case they forget, who really owns this team.

But not today. Today, I am keeping my mouth shut and doing everything exactly as the coach says. In fact, I'm hell bent on being as cooperative as I can. Because amazingly enough, even after everything that I had done for this team, all the sweat and blood and time spent and wasted doing God knows how many stupid, lame assed drills, I am still teetering on the edge of being suspended. I guess stealing the high school bus - Tim's fucking bright idea by the way - had been the last straw.

I am never going to listen to Tim ever again.

And to make matters worse, stain in the bed sheet bastard half-brother is also trying to steal my position. Asshat.

Well, I'm not about to fuck it all up. I'd never hear the end of it from my dad if that happened.

And it won't happen. I won't let it.

"Line up boys, y'all going to dance today." Coach Whitey announces cheerily, plastering the kind of sadistic smile that only he could wear at this kind of hour.

Tim snickers loud enough for the sound to float across the gym as though fleetingly, teasingly running after the booming, echoing voice of coach Whitey. I clench my jaws and send Tim a glare before exasperatedly rolling my eyes. I have to stop myself from reaching out and smacking Tim at the back of his head. If Tim gets me into any sort of trouble today, I am so kicking his ass.

Coach Whitey, undeterred, continued to walk in front of us, hands calmly clasped in front of him, a sure sign that we are not going to like the words that will come out of his mouth next.

"The focus of today's warm up is as follows: change of direction and change of speed all while doing crossover and spins." The old man stops in front of me and Tim. He leans over and smiles even wider, "I hope you find that funny Smith." He mutters loud enough for everyone to hear. "And now, Twinkle Toes, let’s see you start." Coach tosses a ball towards Tim who catches it with a small 'ooomph' of surprise.

"But Coach, I'm not..." Tim starts and I'm quick to lean a little over to him and order: "Man, just do it!" My voice is hard almost angry and with a pained expression on his face, Tim starts to run across the court, dribbling the ball doing quarter spins.

"Now through the legs, Smith and spin and crossover and spin..." Coach is yelling this in a sing-song voice as though trying to teach Tim how to waltz. I have to snicker. To not snicker is inhumanly impossible. Tim looks pretty fucking funny as he gets the ball between his legs, hitting him in the groin. A couple of the guys are snickering as well.

"Oh, I'm glad you're all enjoying this." Coach barks, sounding pleased with himself. "How 'bout you go next, Nathan."

I must not roll my eyes. I must not.

I easily catch the ball and start off from my right, crossing over to the left side of the gym. I'm barely concentrating on this particularly lame assed warm up. I don't know why I still have to do this since I could pretty much do all of Whitey's cute little drills in my sleep, no problem. My dad had me do this when I was in grade school. Besides, I'm too busy trying to piece together the perfect plan to get rid of Pukeassface. If my father had been successful in doing that seventeen years ago, then hell, I could do the same as well.

From the corner of my eyes, I spot Lucas who is staring off into space, eyes squinting.

Motherfucker, what is wrong with his eyes? Must explain why he can't get a ball into the basket. Bastard.

I feel my eyebrow rising as Lucas suddenly turns his head towards me. I wonder slightly panicked if I had actually said the words out loud but no one else is looking at me like I had just started World War Three. I meet Lucas's glare and add a sneer of my own. I can't help it. I mouth the word 'Bastard' while grinning at him.

Lucas does not take the bait. He shakes his head in that totally annoying, 'I'm Better Than Everybody Else, Most Especially _You_ , So I'll Just Ignore You' way of his.

I'm gritting my teeth so hard, my jaws starts to hurt a little.

"Did I tell you to stop and take a little breather, Nathan?" Coach asks me as I stand with hands on my hips, not even slightly out of breath, while beside me Tim is panting like a dog.

"No, sir." I answer as politely as I could through my tightly clenched jaws. I guess it came out the wrong way as coach throws the ball at me. I slam my palm hard against it, the sound echoing all around the gym.

"Again Nathan and this time, try to do it right." Coach says, smiling benevolently at me.

I'm going to have to do more than some lame-assed serious freshmen style hazing on little bastard son to get him off my team and I just have the plan for it. Or at least a beginning of a plan.

I have decided last night that the way to deal with this Lucas thing is through the only way I understand: basketball.

I am going to make Lucas sorry he ever listened to coach Whitey and joined the Ravens.


	2. Offense and Defense

**Chapter Two** : Offense and Defense

There is nothing I hate more than having lunch with the rest of the team and the cheerleaders all together in one table. It's bad enough that I had to spend all morning obeying everything that coach Whitey says like a good little puppy and as soon as coach realized this, he's been hell bent on making me pay for the all times that I had openly disobeyed him.

After the gruelling, humiliating practice, all I want is a nice, relaxing, quiet lunch. Hell, I deserve it. But no, that too has to be ruined.

The sound of Brooke Davis moaning about something stupid grates on my nerve like nothing else. The girl has such a whiny voice and she whines about the lamest things known to man - like how her hair is so messed up, or how the loser from her last class had the nerve to say 'Hi' to her, or how she had to listen to Peyton's crappy music on the way to school.

Okay, there, I could slightly sympathize, but I don't bitch and moan about it all day long. And, this everyone has to know, when in a bad mood, Brooke can be a petty, petulant bitch. And today, she's definitely on a record breaking, real bad mood.

I try to ignore everything that she's says, but it's hopeless. Here, seated at the center of the table, she's making quite a spectacle of herself, rolling her eyes and bitching about not getting the attention and respect she deserves and how her cheerleaders are always looked at like they're sluts.

I want to tell her that maybe she ought to stop acting like one. That should solve her problem in no time but I don't bother. It'll be just a waste of my time. Brooke Davis not act like a slut? There are just some things in life that cannot be changed. Besides, the last thing I need is to get roped into some sort of conversation with her and God, sometimes, I just want to strangle her with her stupid pompoms.

It does not help any that Peyton keeps throwing me 'I know you're up to something no good' looks. And it's even more infuriating that she keeps glancing at the table behind us where Lucas and the rest of his loser friends are hanging out.

She’s making it a point so that I would notice. Which is fucked up because my whole world does not revolves around her and Lucas. I know we've broken up and all and I am not even too bummed about it all, to be honest, but if she's going to make sad-eyes at Lucas all day long, oh-the-pain and longing of it all, then it’s just pretty annoying.

It's not like I care whether or not she jumps right into Lucas's bed. They can do whatever the hell they want to, I am not going to begrudge Lucas for taking my left-over. And it's just so typical of Peyton. She always knows what she wants but is too afraid to go for it. Instead, she'd just listen to her emo music and draw really creepy art. And, okay, yeah once, not too long ago, I found that mysterious and sexy. Now, well, I start to wonder how great the sex had been for us to have stayed together as long as we had.

Alright. It was pretty awesome.

But this is only reminds me that I am not getting any.

Screw this.

This has got to stop. I did not plan on having a suck fest of year. In fact, all I want is a goddamn State Championship trophy to show up for my dad. I have worked my ass out for that. So I got half of the team suspended, but that still did not give anyone the right to go and recruit Lucas into _my_ team. It's a stupid and unusual punishment, that's what it is and it has Whitey's name all over it.

Everyone is just working against me. Even my dad who keeps on saying that I leave it all up to him since he holds some power over the school board, being the basketball legend that he is, Dan Scott, Hometown Hero - whatever.

For all his bragging, I cannot figure out why he still can't get Lucas kicked out from the team. How hard can it be? He's been known to pull some strings to get what he wants and I mean, geez, it's not like Lucas is performing spectacularly well. The guy could barely score, can't even bring the ball into the basket like I do.

Honestly, something tells me that Dan's also enjoying this whole thing just a teensy, weensy bit. I know my dad and I know he's feeling a little flattered to have both his sons on the varsity team. It's his damn pride. And he never ever forgives anyone who'd so much as take his ego a notch or two down.

That includes his sons, his wife and his brother.

I am not going to be on the receiving end of my dad's wrath and I am not going to let him ride me all year round just because _his_ plans for _my_ basketball career had hit a snag, and oh, by the way, let it just be made clear that said snag, was _his_ mistake to begin with. If he can't do anything about it, then it's up to me. After all this is my game, this is my team, this is my problem. I am going to fix it. I don't need anyone else's help.

Which is why I have come up with the most amazing plan ever.

You see, Lucas thinks he can just walk in and grab everything that he wants. He thinks he can endure the little hazing, fine, I'll give him credit for not folding and ratting out on us. But what Lucas doesn't seem to understand is that he is on my turf, we are playing by the rules that I make. He can stand his ground and be humiliated, that's great, good for him. He can be as self-righteous and as pansy assed as he wants. He's got everyone's stinking sympathy, little Cinderella of Tree Hill High, well, while he's busy having fun with the things that he has taken from me, he's forgotten one thing: I am a better player than he is. Always had been and always will be. I can out play him anytime, anywhere. I know that game better than he does. I live and breathe it. And I'm going to use that to get him out of my way.

Basketball is all about offense and defense and okay, right now, I have pretty much used all the defensive strategies known to man but I am not backing down. My last move, kidnapping Lucas and throwing him into the mud, where the river rat truly belonged, yielded no result. And now with Lucas actually on the team, I have gotten myself farther from my goal. But all I need to do is step back, look at the big picture, take things slow. Do things from the outside.

And I immediately think about Haley James.

It's probably because I hear her laughing from behind me. It's impossible not to turn and look at her and even though I know I'm going to get odd stares from the rest of the team and the cheering squad. I turn my head and watch the table where she's having lunch with bed-stain Pukeass.

There is something about that girl. She does not look like she's interested in basketball at all and yet she hangs out with Lucas and the rest of those Rivercourt guys all the time. And she seems to be actually having fun. It sounds impossible, I know, but there she is right now, laughing again at some lame assed joke that Lucas made.

I don't know anything about little Pukeface, but I am pretty certain that he is the most boring and unfunny guy ever and yet every time I see them walking through the hallways, they're always laughing and chuckling at something insanely funny. Or if not joking around, they seem to be engaged in some animated discussion, something so intensely interesting, Haley always with her hands flying around, wildly gesturing and touching Lucas.

The touching part especially makes me a little curious.

They certainly did not have any sort of couple vibe. I'm good with picking that up and girls always act a certain way if they're around a boy they like and want. Like Brooke for example, if she wants some boy toy for the week, she'd always slink up to them and touch them all flirty and giggly and sometimes even tauntingly. Peyton would be all 'leave-me-the-hell-alone' waiting and wanting to be chased. But Haley, I could just not figure her out. She says everything like she means them.

Even when it sounds weird.

Like during the first day of tutoring when she said that she's Math. What the hell that's supposed to mean, I have no idea since math is boring and a complete, total painful chore and she isn't either of the two.

If she had asked me, I would have told her that she's more like Chemistry, all about heating things up, interaction between one substance from another, dynamic interrelation or something - but hey, what do I know, I flunked Chemistry big time.

Anyway, Haley touches Lucas with affection, without any reserves and yet it's still different. And this goes that same with Lucas. None of the grope-y kind of touching. I've seen Lucas be so openly affectionate with Haley, always with an arm around her shoulder or doing those annoying cutesy stuff like pinching her nose or her cheeks, even tickling her in public.

It's enough to make me gag.

Tim thinks that those two are probably sleeping with each other. Best friends with benefit kind of thing and if that was the case, I would've picked up on that too. But no, nothing sexual at all in the way they touch each other. It's like... well, it's almost like watching little kids: just all out innocence.

But whatever. The thing you just need to know is this: Haley James is the key to getting Lucas off the team. She’s the most important part of my plan. I pretty much know that she'll do just about anything for Lucas and that Lucas in turn gets his panties all up in a bunch just by the mere thought of me and Haley being inside the same room, breathing the same air and having an actual conversation. The guy is so threatened by me, it's unbelievable. I am almost having too much fun watching Lucas get all protective and possessive.

And I think I actually meant it when I told him that me wanting to hang out with Haley had nothing to do with grades. I guess that got Lucas real bad since he actually had to drag Haley away from all us that night we all played against the Pickerington Hicks and we all somehow ended up going home together in Brooke’s car.

Lucas's place had been the first stop and he had insisted that Haley be dropped off there as well. The guy didn't even ask if that was what Haley wanted. I just hate guys who think and act like they're being noble and heroic when really, they're just being insecure and annoying.

_"I'll walk her home. Or she can just spend the night here."_

_"What Luke, are you afraid that we're going to corrupt innocent, big-eyed Bambi?"_

Brooke is a real bitch. I wouldn't have put it that way even though that's exactly what I had been thinking that night. That and the way Lucas seems to really enjoy throwing it in my face that Haley can spend the night at his place.

Bastard.

Let's see how he'd feel once I get Haley to spend the night in _my_ place. What I wouldn't give to have him come knocking at my door and looking for Haley. Ha. I'm going to have to capture that moment when it happens.

Ok, granted that from day one, Haley's been very clear that she more than hates my guts. I know that she's just tutoring me for her poor, unjustly abandoned, previously harassed by the basketball team for being a good player (good player? Obviously, Haley does not know a thing about basketball), best friend Lucas, blah, blah, blah, cry me a fucking river - God, the girl could ramble - still, she had agreed to tutor me.

That has to count for something right? I mean, if I'm as repulsive and annoying as she declares every day, she would never have agreed and besides, she could have stopped tutoring me by now, since I've gotten bored of hassling Lucas.

There are certain limits to a friendship. I would never do anything remotely close to this for Tim - subject myself to mind-numbing tutoring sessions at seven in the morning - unless I'm going to get something out of it. I'm hoping that this applies to Haley too. Maybe she wants me too, she just doesn't know it yet. And in the off-chance that Haley is actually, really, honestly doing this for the bastard and nothing else, well, that's where my whole last ditch defense strategy is going to come in.

I could certainly do it on the docks. I'm not the only one who's noticed the almost obsessive and possessive - bordering on creepy, actually - protectiveness of Lucas towards Haley. Like a player with the ball, hell bent on driving it into the basket. And as I would instinctively do on the court, I am going to steal Haley away from shit-faced Puke-ass.

Of course, in basketball, a steal is always a gamble. It looks so good, watching the defense player swat the ball away and get a fast break, but that is, if you do it correctly. Coach hates it when Tim gets all smug assed when he steals a ball but ends up getting himself completely out of position and unable to recover in time, but hey, that's Tim. I sure as hell had not been making that kind of mistake in the court.

Stealing Haley away from Lucas might be a little bit more complicated than stealing a ball in a basketball game but there is no way I am going to back down. I know my game. I know how to play it.

Whatever it takes, I'm going to make Haley like me better than she likes Lucas. I'm going to make her want to touch me the way she touches Lucas - but definitely without the brotherly-sisterly vibe.

And I am going to enjoy it.

I let my eyes linger over to Haley as her smile widened, beaming at something that Lucas had said. She playfully slaps Lucas in the face, a light, affectionate pat more like it, even though I wish it had been more of hard 'Get-Your-Hands-Off-Me' kind of slap. Lucas ought to experience one of those, let's see if he'll be all touchy-feel with every girl who'd come up and say that he played well last game and by every girl, I meant Brooke Davis of course.

I shudder as I try not to think of Brooke and Lucas together. Now that would be a pair made in the stinky backseat of Lucas's car.

Ugh. The image. I think I am scarred for life.

Shaking my head, I concentrate instead on watching Haley as she leans over a little at the table, ducking her head low as Lucas tries to mess her hair up. And even though she's wearing that hideous knitted green jacket of hers, I can see her breast slightly pushing up and man, she's got a nice rack. Why hadn't I noticed that before? I scoff. Maybe because she's always wearing those odd knitted baggy things. I mean, the girl doesn't look all that bad to begin with and yet she doesn't seem to want to do anything about her looks or at the very least the way she dresses.

But I can definitely see potential there.

Oh, yeah. I am totally going to enjoy stealing her away from Lucas.


	3. Speed

**Chapter Three** : Speed

Now the key is of course, speed.

Speed is the reason why basketball is such an adrenaline rush both to players and fans. I have to admit that somehow, the fast paced game calms me down.

Right, that sounds too girly. I think the word I'm looking for is _lucid_.

Still sounds girly.

This is all Haley's fault. She's the one who's been sprouting off all these big, pretty words that I sometimes have to pretend to know the meaning of and have to come rushing to the house looking for the damn dictionary. The first time I asked Dan where the hell our dictionary was, he looked at me really funny.

Anyway, I've made a so many great, amazing decisions on court, ball in my hand, seconds ticking by, a shot away from a win and yet admittedly, when it comes to making decisions about my life, I seem to keep screwing it all up. It doesn't help that my father always has to have a say about something and mostly, in the end, it's always his final word that would come into play. But whatever, my point is speed.

I need to maximize all the possible quickness potential in my first two steps with this whole Steal The Bestfriend Plan of mine. I have to make this nice and quick. I can't have Lucas be on the team until the semi-finals. That just doesn't sit well with me at all. And with the way my Dan had been giving me all sorts of extra drills and exercises, it's safe to say that he's of the opinion that I am slacking off and letting Lucas pick the team right off into State.

So I employ my amazing speed.

From all the basketball games I've played, I've seen players who aren't that physically quick but they get by their defender in real tight game situations. The reason for this? They make their first two steps as quick as possible.

The first two steps are always essential. My dad might be a total basketball Nazi, but he knows what he's talking about. Dan is very technical, very scientific and while the rest of my teammates are busy doing coach's silly little drills and watching endless NBA videos, Dan had been force-feeding me all sorts of information about the technical, physical and mental aspects of the game. I've been forced to remember that I'm supposed to use the most powerful muscles on my second step, glutes and quads rather than the slower muscles (my hamstrings).

My dad just loves giving lectures about basketball being more than just a sport but an actual science and when he gets into that zone, he's almost bearable. Of course he does this during dinner which annoys the hell out of my mom who has to plead with both of us to stop talking about basketball when eating. She thinks it's obscene. My parents are real piece of work. Together, that is. Separately, they're kind of ok. And how sad is that?

Anyway, going back to my plan. The first step is to get Haley to trust me and then seduce her.

But to make things clear, this isn't about hooking up with her, it's about making sure that I use Lucas's weakest link to drive him out of the team. And second, when I say seduce her, I don't mean it in a sexual way.

Okay, maybe I do. Sort of.

Initially, the plan had been to bargain with Lucas. Her: Haley James, loyal best friend of so-and-so years or Basketball. An ultimatum. Lucas has to choose. Leave the team so Haley doesn't end up getting hurt. It's as simple as that.

As a plan, yeah, it sounded good, but that just seemed so utterly low and I am not about to sink into that level. So that idea went out of the window pretty quickly.

The _new_ plan is still a little sketchy. I mean, right now, I just want to piss Lucas off. I want him to know how it feels to have something important in his life be taken away, stolen from right underneath his own nose. Besides, I still have some time to figure things out; I shouldn't be getting way too ahead of myself. From the time being, I just need to concentrate on not acting like a dumb arrogant jock in front of Haley James.

And the first two steps in seducing Haley are as follows:

 _Step One_. I have to always remember to use my most powerful weapon, my undeniable charm and my ability to make her squirm and blush.

I have no trouble with this, since I am finding it even a little more than just entertaining and challenging trying to think up of ways on how to make her blush. She blushes easily. Over the smallest things actually. Like a little off-handed comment about how sexy her voice is in the morning or how I like her choice of clothes for the day, even though she wears the damn poncho, like every day.

I think the Rivercourt guys treat her with kid gloves or they treat her like she's one of the guys. If it's the latter, it should be a crime. Girls like her should not be let in on guys stuff; it makes girls like her more... _fascinating_. And if it's the former, someone should actually let her know that not all guys are like that scrawny kid they call Teeth - or something.

Someone ought to tell her that there are a lot of guys who are out to scam sweet, innocent girls like her. With practically the same kind of sweet talking that I often give her.

Don't you just love irony? I know I do, especially after Haley explained how it all works. Anyway, I told her all this - evil guys out to screw nice girls like her - hoping to make her feel like I'm looking out for her.

Of course, she totally took it the wrong way.

Which leads me to, _Step Two_. My arrogance is like my hamstrings. Completely worthless. It just simply would not work on her.

"For your information Nathan Scott, I'm not some big-eyed, dumb, naive _Bambi_."

And thank you Brooke, for being such a bitch. I didn't think she'd remember Brooke's off-hand comment and even if she did, I never thought that she might have felt bad about it which for some strange, strange reason makes me feel funny. But not in the _hahaha_ kind of way funny. Funny as in, I think I might actually be a little upset just because she's a little upset funny.

Strange. I know.

The way her eyes are flashing, well, it's pretty obvious that she doesn't like being referred to as Bambi. Nope. Not one bit. Of course since she's fortunate enough not to be friends with Brooke Davis, thank God, Haley is not aware that anything that comes out of Brooke's mouth should not be taken seriously. In fact, the only time I'd ever really listen to Brooke is when she's on the verge of being drunk. During that critical 5 minutes to drunken stupor, those are the only time that Brooke Davis is honest with herself and with anyone else, actually. Even Peyton agrees with me on this.

Although, to be fair, it's not really Brooke's fault. Well, yeah okay, she should've kept her mouth shut but Haley should've seen that coming. Unless she's completely unaware of how brown and doe-full her eyes are. Even her eyelashes, long and thick kind of remind me of Bambi.

I have to bite my lips to actually stop myself from saying that out loud. I may be stupid, but I am not _that_ stupid.

But yes, Bambi should pretty much describe Haley James. Small, delicate, gentle, friendly, big brown eyes and naive. Yes to all that but definitely not dumb. When I tried explaining to her that I didn't mean it that way she only got into a whole minute of rambling.

And today's topic: _How Haley James Could Take Care of Herself, Perfectly Fine, Thank You Very Much._ __  
  
As it turns out said topic branches out into several sub-topics. She briefly touched on how typical of guys like me - cocky, arrogant big-shot high school football jock -

"Basketball, Haley! I think you just say that on purpose to antagonize me!"

She actually paused to smirk at me before continuing, "thinks that I need some sort of protection. And I am not naive! God, why does everyone assume that I am! And for that matter, why is being naive such a bad thing? Isn't it more like a virtue? Granted that in some thesaurus, naive is like synonymous to simple-minded, gullible, inexperienced, unsophisticated, wide-eyed virgin." She slants her eyes at me. "Do you think that I am naive?"

Oh, my God. It's a trick question! "Uhh." I try to buy myself some time as I try to gauge her facial reaction.

"Well?" Haley asks impatiently tapping her finger against the opened, now forgotten Algebra book.

I slowly, unsurely shake my head no.

She raises her eyebrows at me.

I shake my head emphatically. "Hell no."

"Good. If I hear one more person, just one more, describe me as naive, I am going to scream my head off." She went back to how utterly wrong it was for me to even suggest that she needs a knight in shining armour to protect her from all the big bad evils of the world. She called it sexist and so completely 1950's. She even asked me if I knew what year it is.

She's got a sharp tongue, that girl.

The only good thing that came out of that conversation is that now I know that she can actually throw in a good punch or two. This she says was from having two older brothers and three very disturbingly violent older sisters. She's proud to add that Lucas never even had to teach her how to put up a fist; she could pretty much do it as soon as she turned five.

It's weird how I found that particular information kind of cute and amusing.

But so not the point.

Anyway, this only reminded me that I should avoid being my cocky, over confident self.

It pisses Haley off when I start telling her why I should be allowed to have less homework than the rest of the class. She refuses to see my athletic skills and the basketball team's winning streak (all thanks to me, by the way) as some big favor to the school. She's certainly not impressed by how much I scored on a game. She's more interested in how I did on my Senior English writing assignment and my American Government quiz which is hard, since if I score 40 on my last game, I tend to score something half of that on my exams.

Haley actually expects me to learn something. She expects me to get better grades.

That sucks balls.

I don't know how good of a tutor she is, I've heard that she's the best of course but I doubt it if she can help me with my grades. I mean, she's smart. Really, smart. Not just like book smart like Erica What's Her Face smart, but really, you know, like, _sensible_ smart. Practical. Just all around smart. And also, always so calm and in control of the situation.

I have never seen her go postal about anything at all. She glares and threatens me when I say something mean about Lucas but that's pretty much the extent of it. While Brooke is almost always a drunk, whiny manipulative bitch and Peyton always PMS-ing, Haley is just so... normal and together - well, putting her rambling aside, that is.

I know she can teach anyone absolutely anything, it's me who's not exactly the best kind of student. I'm the one who's not so good at learning.

"That's not true, Nathan. Look, I didn't want to say this cause I'm sure this is all going to go straight to your already inflated ego, but you're a quick learner. You don't have any trouble understanding concepts and theories." She pauses, half-frowns, half smiles as though amused. "You're just easily distracted." She concludes with a shrug of her shoulder, brown hair spilling down, grazing the table as she leans forward just teensy, weensy bit.

It's enough to make me notice. "Also," I add, smirking, "I don't take any notes, but I'm damn pretty good at remembering things."

She rolls her eyes and I actually catch her lips curving up. "Ego, did I mention that you have a big, fat, grossly over-fed ego?"

I can feel my smirk getting bigger. "Although, yes, I can be easily distracted. Especially by pretty girls." I flirt back and she gives me a look that says she is definitely not flirting with me.

I sigh. Way to go Scott. Sometimes, when I think it's there and I go for it, I just fall flat on my face. Okay, fine. Not sometimes. More like all the time. Frowning, pissed off at myself for not being able to read Haley James so easily, I cross my arms against my chest. I look away from her. "It's just that I have way too many things going on right now, I can't deal with this stupid school stuff too."

"This stupid school stuff too." Haley mutters mimicking me.

I glare at her. It's hard to be charming when she's trying to annoy me. Some of Lucas' 'better than thou' attitude had rubbed off on her. That's the only explanation I can think of every time Haley starts treating me like she could really, really dislike me. Lucas is such a bad influence on her. Another reason to put down on the list on why Lucas is such as pain in the ass.

"Name at least three." Haley challenges me.

Three? Easy. I scoff. My turn to roll my eyes. I bring my hand up, right smack in between us and tick my fingers off. "Basketball and my dad and..."

And dammit, mother fucker, I can't think of anything else.

Haley looks on at me expectantly, her huge, Bambi-like eyes growing even larger. She raises her eyebrows in a silent, 'Uh-huh, and?'

"And some other stuff, okay!"

I expected some smug comment but she just shakes her head. "Nathan, Dan doesn't count, since he still falls underneath Basketball." Haley states this without missing a heartbeat. She says this in a patiently kind voice. She says it like she understands how Dan and basketball is almost always one and the same and how it gets to me that sometimes, I feel like my dad wants me to actually _hate_ the only thing that I actually love, just because I might be better than him at it.

And this is so painfully true, I think I got a little irritated at her for knowing things that she's not supposed to know about me. Before I know it, I am leaning towards her, practically sneering. "You don't know anything, so if I were you, I'd back the hell up."

If this was Peyton, she'd be already inside her car, tires screeching and waiting for me to come and woo her back. But Haley does not know how to back down. If she believes in something she stands on her ground. She's calls on my bullshit but she never gloats over it. She's always fair that way. She sighs deeply, looks at me with tired, weary eyes. She's looking at me like she actually cares. Like what I feel actually matters.

"Nathan, this will not work if you're not serious about this. You have to be really into it. Like mind, body, heart and soul. If you're not then we're just wasting time here."

And passionate. Have I mentioned that Haley James is passionate? I mean, I've never used the term _passionate_ before, ever. But this is the only thing that comes into my mind as I look into her eyes. I have never heard anyone be so openly passionate about something. Most especially about studying. But that's what makes Haley James different from the rest of the girls of Tree Hill High.

Like Peyton for example, who spends so many hours of her life practicing those cheer routines and would immediately scoff and roll her eyes when I ask her about how her cheering practice went. She does it to be around Brooke, I think. Or something about her mom being a cheerleader once. I can't remember which. The point is, she doesn't even really enjoy it. She's more than happy to quit but only if I also quit basketball. And I've never heard of anything so ridiculous in all my life. After spending so much time and effort over cheerleading and then to suddenly quit? It just seems like a waste. She draws stuff, but she doesn't even seem to want to share it with anyone else, she hides them in her room. I mean, it's her art work and even if I totally don't get it and don't shower her with praises over how disturbingly dark and incredibly morbid her drawings are, she should at least care for them, right?

Which brings me to my current dilemma.

Peyton, I can understand. She's hiding from the cheerleading and the partying and the drama of high school. The fact is, she doesn't like to be alone. She lives in constant fear that everyone will eventually leave her and when they do, she makes no attempt to keep them. And I am not talking about our relationship at all. There's a reason why her only real friend is Brooke Davis and why she doesn't have any one else. It's always been just her and Brooke and me, when we started dating. She doesn't do well with keeping friends. She just lets them drift away but then when she finds a new person who gives her some sort of attention - the intense kind - she latches on to it like nothing else.

This makes Peyton vulnerable - in a dangerous kind of way. If she's not careful, she's going to be trusting the wrong kind of people, letting them into her life and she's going to gut hurt by it. I mean, I know that I'm not in love with Peyton, but I care about her and I don't want to see her get hurt. But until she realizes that she can't hide behind Brooke Davis forever, she's not going to be her own self.

And while Peyton is as easy to analyze and understand, Haley, well, I just don't get her. Everything she does, her reasons for it, it's all a big puzzle to me. If she spent her time studying rather than tutoring other kids, she'd be able to graduate high school right about now and be a damn valedictorian too. Why is she so into helping dumb hopeless kids?

"No one is hopeless, Nathan. Look, I want you to get good grades but you have to work hard for it."

The pep-talk is almost better than coach's motivational speeches, which involved mostly death threats and unending pain and torture. I grin at her and she rolls her eyes at me. Well, if there's one thing I'm good at, it's working hard. And that's what I plan on doing. After all, the rewards for good grades ought to put Lucas out of the team. Permanently.

"And, Nathan, if you ever pull your sneering, intimidating crap on me ever again, I am so going to kick your ass." She pauses to give me a glare, "I might be small, but I know how to inflict pain." And then she smiles at me. Her first ever real smile.

And good Lord, help me, I actually believe her.


	4. The Importance of a Free Throw

**Chapter Four** : The Importance of a Free Throw

I still remember how it was when I got the 84 on the math quiz.

Did I ever study for that. Even I was surprised that the quiz didn't look like a bunch of mad jumble of numbers all designed to confuse me. It made sense to me. I don't think I had ever concentrated on an exam that hard ever before. Usually, I just glance at the questions and since I'm pretty much resigned to that fact that I have no way of knowing the answers, I just pass it back the way it had been given to me: all blank. After all, the less time spent in the classroom going over an exam that I'd no doubt fail, the more time I can spend practicing my game.

But then, damn, that I actually filled up two pages worth of that quiz... well, that rocked big time.

I'll be honest, if I had flunked that exam I would be sorely disappointed and I had been really nervous about it too. Not that I've ever admit it, but dammit it, I definitely felt my stomach cramping. Not only did I not want to disappoint myself, I hated the thought of having to tell Haley that I couldn't make the grade.

When the paper was handed to me, at first I thought it had been a mistake; that I might have gotten the wrong test paper or I got the wrong grade and I was almost tempted to ask about it when Tim saw my paper and he just about peed with disbelief.

"Fucking hell, Nate." Was all that he could say as he kept glancing at my paper and his paper, comparing our grades.

I look at the paper clutched at my hand. There it is. Still the same grade.

An eighty-four.

I can't help but grin. I never really thought I'd feel like this over a test score. Like winning a game. Like getting the last, winning shot. I mean, I never realized that there was something else out there that I'd be so psyched about. And I actually worked hard for this grade. Well, Haley and I worked hard for this grade and as soon as I thought of her, I could not get her out of my head. I keep thinking that all the time I had been answering the exam, I had been hearing her voice, how she explained it all to me and how pleased she had been with my practice test and here now is the real thing and I did even better. I could not wait to show it to her.

All day, I kept searching for her at school but I couldn't find her. All the annoying people and I mean everyone was coming up to me asking me about the father and son game and I could not be bothered by them - as far as I was concerned, they were just wasting my time. Time I could have spent looking for the one person that I needed and wanted to see: Haley James.

Since they were bothering me so much, I tried asking some of them if they know where she was and the fact that not one of them hadn't even heard of her, didn't know she went to Tree Hill High annoyed me endlessly. Some people could be real shitheads.

I even missed fifth period just so I could wait for her by the Tutor Center only to be told that she had some free time and that she's mostly likely at the cafe, working.

Dammit.

It sucks that we don't have any classes together. With her being so smart, she's taking all those advance classes that I had no way of getting in. She has two classes with Jake and probably about five with Lucas (okay, so I went on ahead to get her class schedule, it's all part of the plan!) and for a brief moment I was even tempted to ask them if they had seen her and could they pass along a message. Of course, knowing those two, they'll probably think that I am being my usual asshole self.

I don't know why Jake is suddenly on Lucas's team. All I know is that he has been slacking off and if I had been riding him the past couple of days, it's his fault and not mine. The mere thought that Jake and Lucas had seen and talked to Haley while I was out aimlessly wandering the hallways, hoping to bump into her is quickly erasing any sort of good mood I might have had from the exam.

It took me almost forever to finally find Haley and it's already the end of the day, not enough time to talk and hang out with her. I have to hurry back home because Dan insists that we do some more drills before the game. I would have loved to just ditch Dan and spend the rest of the afternoon with Haley celebrating my good – no, awesome - grade but there'll be hell to pay and I just don't need my dad hassling me before that stupid annual father and son game - which is supposed to be fun, by the way, but it's quickly turning into a complete fucking nightmare.

It's bad enough that he thinks I need practice drills before playing against him, like I ought to expect to be beaten but to actually insist that I keep my eye on Lucas and Keith is just tiresome. I'm of mind to actually tell my dad that if he's so bothered by it, by Keith and Lucas being in the father-son game, then he could play Lucas's daddy for the night. In fact, I'm in such a good mood, I'd let Lucas have my dad for the rest of the week. Let's see how Lucas would love having Dan around. Oh, the bullying. I bet Lucas would enjoy that too. After all, there is nothing that says 'I love you' better than constantly pressuring your son. At least that's how my dad sees it. I think.

I roll my eyes and shake my head. Forget about Dan. I concentrate on fixing a smile on my face as Haley gets closer to me. She hasn't seen me yet. I wonder if she'll accept an invitation for pizza. I mean, I did get a good grade. There should be some reward, right? I try to think of how to ask her without making it sound like it's a date, because it isn't a date, just pizza. I didn't want to make an especially big deal out of it and – oh, look at that. Speak of the bastard. There's Lucas, ambling towards me, completely without a care in the world. I bet Keith isn't forcing him to practice his jump shots.

My smile instantly vanishes. I can't help but scowl. If Lucas had stayed where he belonged, things would never have gotten this complicated at all. There is just not enough room in this place for the Scott men and even my mom thinks so. I bet Mrs. Roe has the same opinion about it. I mean, Keith is okay, we may not be that close, but he's a great guy. Which is why I feel bad about this whole father and son thing. He's definitely going to be under some hellish fire when my father gets to talk to him and I could already see the game becoming a one big Scott Family Reunion Pissing Contest. The people of Tree Hill would be pleased.

I bet even Whitey would enjoy the whole thing.

I have to stop midstride as Lucas sees me. He halts, pauses and gives me a dirty look.

I frown at him. What the hell have I done this time? Is it a crime to be on the school grounds now? 'Cause last time I checked, I practically own this school. Lucas is always so defensive. Like the whole world is out to get him. Which would probably explain why he loves being coddled by everyone. From Whitey to Keith to Brooke and Peyton and most especially Haley.

 _Wait_.

It hits me right there and then.

Lucas. Haley. Me.

All in one place.

Well, this has certainly happened before. All so fucking awkward too but Haley had always taken Lucas's side and had always gone with him. But no, she hasn't seen him yet. Does not look like it. It's the perfect opportunity. Lucas is here. Haley is there. I have the grade.

In basketball, I'd definitely call this a nice, sweet open shot. It's like a free throw, really. Free throws are highly underestimated, but people forget how a free throw can make or break a game. It's a good thing I know how to appreciate the importance of a free throw. Dan made sure that I did not just concentrate on post moves; he insisted that I develop a balanced game. He had been such a hard ass making me do free throws after free throws after free throws at our backyard when I was younger. I'm going to sound totally arrogant, but I have mastered the mechanics of it and now, with Haley smiling up at me, my math quiz dangling in between us, this is going to be by far the easiest free throw I've ever have to make in my entire life.

Of course, as most free throws, the whole thing might go against me. That is if Haley refuse to even so much as talk at me and I'd end up looking like a total spaz.

But the gods are smiling down on me. Finally.

I walk in front of Haley, glance briefly at Lucas and then with a wide grin, I show her the paper. She beams up at me and I mean, she practically lit up. She gives me a great big smile and it's a good thing that Haley James is the kind of girl who'd be willing to give not just words of encouragement but congratulatory, job well done hugs as well.

And with my arms wrapped around her small waist, I have to admit that I'm a little touched at her show of enthusiasm, like she had expected me to do well and had not doubted me for one second. That's probably when I started to really think of her as my tutor and appreciate everything that she had done for me so far. Especially, including that hug.

I think Coach would definitely call that as an old fashion three-point play. For the first time in a long while, I have successfully gotten myself a decent grade and I didn't even have to cheat or steal someone's paper, not only that I got Haley to hug me and in front of Lucas too.

When I opened my arms wide I don't know which one of us was more surprised. Me, when Haley practically jumped into my arms or Lucas when he saw Haley hug me. I kind of gloated over the fact that Lucas looked like I just crushed all his childhood dreams and hopes and I would've added a smirk or two but when I took a deep breath, I completely forgot all about Lucas and the plan and everything else.

Man, Haley smells so nice.

And she's like the perfect height.

Peyton always has her hair on my mouth when we hug like this and for some reason, her hair always smelled like those flavored colored pens. Always a mix of grapes and apple. Plus, her head always bumps painfully (sometimes, I think she does it on purpose) against my jaws. It's kind of annoying. But Haley, well, she fits perfectly, with my chin resting on the crook of her shoulders and her body pressed into mine.

And did I mention that she smells nice? As in nice, clean, sweet nice? None of Brooke Davis's cloying smell of cinnamon or vanilla or kiwi or peaches or whatever.

Haley smells like... early morning. Fresh and clean and just barely with a hint of sweetness, which is just so damn fucking sexy.

If someone would ask me when Haley James started becoming sexy to me, I'd say that night did it. That hug did it. And I kept thinking about it too. I could not get it out of my head. Even after the game. As I lay down on my bed, the only thing I could think of was that Haley James smells awesome.

No wonder Lucas and the Rivercourt guys hang out with her all the time. And then, frowning, I start to wonder if the rest of the Rivercourt guys get to hug her as well and I kind of felt weird about that. Like having my chest trampled on kind of weird. I couldn't shake off that feeling. But then, it just might be because my father had been such an ass during the father-son basketball game.

The night had sucked big time and the only shining moment was that hug. And Haley smelling so... Haley.

It had taken me the rest of the night to figure out that the hug had officially threw me off course a bit, since obviously, I'm the one who's still wide awake at three in morning, anticipating the tutoring session tomorrow, wondering how things will change now that we have hugged. Like hugging is huge deal.

I have turned into a pansy assed... something. Getting all worked up over something as completely innocent as a hug.

Although, it kind of is a big deal. I mean, she and Lucas are always hugging each other. Maybe Haley is becoming a... friend? But definitely a different kind of friend. None of that brotherly-sisterly vibe that she and Lucas share. I don't have any sister, so I wouldn't know anything about sisterly-vibe but I'm certain that if I had a sister and I had hugged her, I wouldn't be noticing how wonderful she smells like. That would be totally sick.

My problem is, even if my relationship to Haley is changing, it's certainly not fair that while Lucas does not have to wake up before dawn to get tutored by Haley, I can bet on my money and even my dad's car dealership that he's also not lying on his bed right now, still wearing the same shirt from last night trying to inhale the faint, fading scent of Haley James. Unless Lucas is a complete bi-polar who is secretly in love with his best friend. But only Brooke would be crazy enough to think that way.

My mind wanders back to that hug and how it felt to have Haley James in my arms. It felt... right and somehow tainted. Was it because I was doing it to mess up with Lucas? Was it because I made a show out of it instead of what I had originally planned and wanted? And whoa, wait. Did I just... well, okay. Yeah. I didn’t plan on making Lucas watch me and Haley hugging. It only came about when I saw Lucas. It just happened and I grabbed that opportunity. I can’t be faulted for that.

_Right?_

I frown and blankly stare at the ceiling. What does that mean then?

I don't get it. Why is this becoming so hard and complicated? It's a simple plan. So simple even Tim would've pulled it off and yet here I am, suffering from an insane bout of insomnia thinking about Haley and feeling guilty about it.

Shit. I am starting to have a real, fucking headache.

I sigh and take a deep breath, the scent of Haley gently filling up my nostrils, my senses and I feel a warm tingling at the base of my spine and at the pit of my stomach.

But damn, that was a hot hug.

I'm going to have to pull off more 84's.

I hope we have a quiz on every subject every day for the rest of the term.

I wonder how she'll feel about a kiss for a 100.

I wonder just how much studying is involved to get a hundred on an exam.

 _Wait_. Oh God, what am I saying?

I am so fucking doomed.


	5. There is No 'I' in Team

**Chapter Five** : There is No 'I' in Team

If I have to get serious with studying to get Haley to trust me, then I'm certain I could do that. It's not like I'm trying to impress her by how much I can improve my test scores. I'm completely over that. What was I thinking that night? Studying to get a hundred for an exam? I must have hit my head pretty bad during the game. Only possible explanation. But still, I can certainly use the time studying with her to just really get to know her. I have to know what makes her tick so that I could seduce her into betraying Lucas.

Ok, so I am starting to feel just a little bit bad about this whole plan. But it can't be helped that she'll have to be the reason for Lucas' down fall. Besides, she willingly put herself into the position.

And why is that making me feel like I'm a real, slimy bastard?

Fuck.

It's not like I am going to force her into doing something she doesn't want to do. I'm not that kind of person. I just need to drive a wedge between her and Lucas, big enough to threaten Lucas with taking Haley away from him if he doesn't quit the team. And as soon as Lucas quits the team then they can both have their old world back, where everything is so perfectly perfect and everyone is just brimming with happiness.

Haley certainly looks happy every time she's with Lucas and when the times come for me to dump Haley, or whatever, I still haven't figured out that part of the plan yet - and yes, the thought of it is still making me feel... all _wrong_ and if I'm not careful enough, it's going to snowball into guilt and then I'd just have to kiss my plan goodbye. I don't do guilt well.

Where was I? Oh, yes, when things go down, however which way, Lucas can be Haley's white knight in shining armor. Really, I'd be doing the two of them a favor. They'd be better friends after this whole thing and maybe in the end, they'd be thanking me.

Who knows, right?

So maybe she'll never forgive me and she'll never speak to me again, it's not like a big loss. I don't care. I didn't even know that she existed before Lucas joined the team. I shouldn't really be bothered by that. I had spent so many years not knowing, not being with Haley James, the rest of my life would be just dandy without her.

Okay, fine. So that's a lie. On both accounts actually.

I have noticed her before. How could I not? She and Lucas are like permanently glued to each other. Plus, she might look all mousy and even maybe a little dorky, but she has a nice smile. But other than that, she was - had been - completely off my radar.

Has that changed? Hell, yeah it has. I mean, I can't just ignore her other good qualities now can I? I certainly wouldn't mind being able to hang out with her any time I want to. It doesn't hurt that she's nice to look at. I'm a guy. If I didn't notice that Haley is pretty, I'd be not a guy.

Fucking shit. I blame this all on Lucas. This is all on him.

Why can't Lucas pick a butt-ugly girl who has bad breath for a best friend? Why does she have to be pretty and kind and interesting and nice smelling? And while I'm on that subject, it just boggles my mind on how the hell Lucas ended up being friends with her. As far as I can tell, they have absolutely nothing in common. I've asked Haley several times and it's probably how I say Lucas's name - like it's something filthy, which I can't help, I mean, how am I supposed to say the guy's name? - because she refused to talk about Lucas. We could talk about practically anything and everything, including my screwed up relationship with Peyton but not Lucas.

That seems unfair to me. She insists that it's my fault. I don't know how the hell she came up with that. So, okay, I might have in some occasion sneered at her when she said something nice about Lucas but I really don't need to know how she and Lucas had spent the night playing rooftop mini-golf. That Lucas has a mini-golf course on top of his mom's cafe is disturbing enough. I cannot believe a guy can be such a fucking pansy. Add that they actually made it from random scraps that they could find... well, okay, that sounded almost cool but whatever, I wasn't looking for a whole morning of listening as she rambled on and on about how she and Lucas are just so blissfully happy being the bestest best friends forever and ever and God, kill me now.

"How come you hate Lucas so much? He hasn't done anything to you." Haley asks, frowning up at me.

I lean back on my seat and cross my arms against my chest. "Oh, you mean other than the fact that he wants my girlfriend and my spot at the team?"

She arches her eyebrows at me. "If you're bothered so much by Lucas and Peyton spending time together, why don't you do something about it? Try and win Peyton back."

I just have to scowl at that. Is she nuts? Peyton and I have done the whole on-again-off-again so many times, it's enough to last us four fucking lifetimes and I for one have no intention of spending my life in a constant state of confusion whether I currently have a girlfriend or not. It's completely tiresome and so not worth it. Peyton and I might have had some pretty amazing time together but we also put each other through some heavy shit. I treated Peyton like crap and she retaliated by letting me treat her crap, which in the end made me feel like a real scum and which, in the future, I know she will use to hold over my head to make me feel even scummier.

I'm sorry for how things went down, but for starters, I thought we were both pretty clear with the fact that we aren't really looking for something serious. We were just looking to have fun. We didn't start out being in love and we certainly did not end up being in love. If there's any good thing about what happened between us, it was that we both broke it up before it had gotten uglier. Me getting back together with Peyton would not only be the supreme act of stupidity, I would also doing it for all the wrong reasons. I'm done with that.

"Wow that is just the most romantic thing I've ever heard." Haley mutters as soon as I finished explaining to her the facts of my relationship with Peyton. She has her head bow down low, taking notes and giving me quick, small glances. "Although strangely enough, I think I've heard it all before from my sister." She adds with a disturbed frown.

I scowl at her. "It's not about me and Peyton getting back together, it's about Lucas wanting the things that should belong to me.

She looks up at me. "Like the basketball team."

It's not a question. Which is why I am not answering that. I know better not to answer. "Look, I don't know anything about Lucas okay, so maybe it isn't fair that I hate the guy." I pause as soon as I realize what I had just said. _What?_ _Wait_.

Crap. Did I just say that out loud?

I blink and look at Haley. I'm surprised to find her looking at me so intently, I'm almost tempted to look away. I feel like she's trying to stare right into me. Into my soul or whatever. I don't do that whole starry-eyed, soul-searching thing, so instead I square my shoulder and stare right back at her. I'm not going to lose any staring contest with doe-eyed girls. Especially tiny, doe-eyed girls that goes by the name of Haley James. She slowly blinks back at me, obviously expecting me to go on and since I have all her attention now, might as well get it all out. "But it still does not change the fact that I hate him. I just do. You honestly never hated anyone for no apparent, just reason?"

Haley is quiet for a few seconds. She makes a face, opens her mouth as though to make an argument but thinks better about it. "Maybe if you get to know Luke, you'll find out that you have more things in common than basketball and it doesn't have to be something that one takes from the other. You could always share."

Almost immediately, I think about her and want to make an example out of her. Let's see how Lucas would feel about sharing you with me. But then if I do that, it's like giving Haley a formal invitation to knock me unconscious. I don't know if she's capable of doing that, but I'm not up for testing it. Not today. Not ever. It does not sound like any fun.

"I don't share." I simply say.

She lets out a sound, like a cross between a snort and a sigh. "Well, there's your problem then. It's all about _you_. _I_ want the team. _I_ hate Lucas. _I_ don't share. _Me, me, me, I, I, I, mine, mine, mine_."

She says this in a sing-song voice, which by all accounts should sound annoying. I mean, I know it _should_ sound annoying but dammit I think I'm hanging around with her so much that even her mocking tone is actually kind of... okay. Even tolerable. Normally, I would not put up with this kind of shit from anyone and by now I would have already walked out or given her the attitude but somehow I just... _can't_. Not with her.

So I sit there, listen to her say all the things that everyone had been telling me all these years, all of which I have successfully ignored but now that it's coming from her... I sigh and slump low in my seat, feeling almost well, sorry. "You done?"

She shakes her head. "It's kind of ironic that you're _that_ selfish, considering that you're actually playing a team sport. Haven't you ever hear of-"

I roll my eyes at her, cutting her off. "If this is about the letter 'I' not being in 'team', then save it James. I've heard it all before from everyone else and if I have to hear it from you, I swear-"

_I swear I'm going to kiss you senseless just to shut you up._

Haley raises her eyebrows, look at me weirdly for a few seconds and I feel my stomach dropping to the ground. Shit. I did not say that out loud. Did I?

She gives me a final look, narrowing her eyes at me. "Fine, you don't have to hear it from me. God, Nathan, are you always this stubborn?"

"Yeah, pretty much." I reply solemnly adding a smirk at the last minute.

She looks at me like she expected that answer, brown eyes so... brown and eloquently expressive. She doesn't have to say it, but I have a feeling I know what she's thinking. And as though to remind me how she could convey her thoughts with just one look, she gives me a hopeless roll of the eye, a disappointed shake of her head before wordlessly pushing the history book in front of me.

I raise my eyebrows. That's it? This must be a trick. I slant my eyes at her and she raises her own eyebrows and I have feeling that she's mocking me. She gestures with her hand over at the book lying open in front of me.

Frowning, almost unsure if I've heard the last of it, I start reading the paragraph that she highlighted, the words not making any sense at all. I am honestly expecting something from her, I'm not sure what, but at least _something_ since I pretty much proudly announced that I was a selfish bastard. Impossibly enough she keeps quiet. Strange. She usually has an opinion about how I should change my attitude but today, she just seems resigned to the fact that I am an ass.

I swallow hard.

Well, that can't be a good thing.

As silence settles around us, I can feel my chest getting heavier by the minute. I open my mouth and then close it - almost in the exact same way that she did earlier - I want to take everything I said back. Of course, geez, I'm not proud of being an asshole. But as far as I know, no one has ever actually told me that I'm a jerk and actually meant it. I mean, really, _really_ meant it. I try to look back at all the girls who ever told me that I'm mean or anything and all of them would say it all playfully-like, running their fingers up and down my arms, pouting or smiling coyly, depending on how drunk they were. And take Peyton for example, she calls me jackass every time she could and yet at the end of the day, she'd tell me that it's okay and we'd end up making out in her bed. So I know that she doesn't really mean it. Take every other girl - including my mom as an example. Every time I do shitty things and I go apologizing to them, all they ever say is that it's okay. So when is it okay and not okay?

I try to imagine what Haley will say to that. It'll be something utterly simple and confusing. Like, _"You should know that. In fact, I think you already do, Nathan."_

And I think I know what she means by that. Or what her voice in my head means.

And wait just a fucking minute here. When did Haley James start to be the voice of reason inside my head?

Shaking my head and shifting in my seat (I can still feel her looking at me) I try not to dwell on the implications of having Haley James's voice - no matter how I like her voice - be trapped inside my head. If I do that know, I just might end up... well, things would end up not according to plan. I try to concentrate instead on the history book in front of me. I take a deep breath and re-read the whole paragraph all over again. I think I read it about six times before everything finally started to sink in and just when I'm getting into how the civil war started, I hear Haley clear her throat. Looking up, I see her fidgeting in her seat.

"Katie Holmes." She mutters after a few seconds, looking like she had just swallowed something bad.

"What?" I frown and blink at her. Where, when and how in the hell did Katie Holmes get into our conversation? Had I somehow zoned out as she rambled on about something involving Katie Holmes? But that's impossible. I always tend to listen to her rambling and in some cases, even be amused by it.

She looks up at me and shakes her head, gives me the 'What are you deaf?!' look.

I raise my eyebrows at her. I seem to be doing that a lot lately and it's all her fault since I can't seem to pin her down, everything she does is a real mystery to me. One minute she's making me question everything that I used to believe in - including the way I had been acting all these years - which apparently had not been all that great and now she comes up with the strangest statement known to man.

"Are you on crack?" I can't help but ask. Now I know for a fact that Haley James isn't the kind who'd be into those sort of things and I'd sooner suspect Whitey himself, but she seems to be on a natural high all on her own. Sometimes, I think I'd like to have what she's having - she has a way of making everything seem so... light and carefree and completely without any sort or form of mind-numbing, heart-wrenching drama.

Haley gives me another one of her famous eye-rolls. "Katie Holmes. I hate her." She finally answers, flipping her right hand into the air. "Alright. I admit it. I don't know why. I just do. I unjustly hate her." She scrunches up her face. "I loathe her. I just... there is just something..." She makes feeble hand gestures.

She's a weird girl. I've made that conclusion from day one. Weird in a good way. Interesting weird. Funny weird. Something weird that I could definitely get used to. I chuckle for a few seconds. I never really thought I'd be amused by a conversation as inane as this and something that has got nothing to do with basketball. "Why?" I ask, already looking forward to what she'll say. Something I would not be able to guess, something that I'll never expect, because if there's one thing I learned from all the weeks I've spent with Haley James, it's that she is always, always going to surprise me.

Haley pouts slowly, her lower lip jutting out in an almost exaggerated fashion. "I just do. She annoys me. Especially when she was Joey in Dawson's Creek." She pauses, makes a face and frowns and then, out of nowhere, totally unprovoked, she does a pretty impressive imitation, her shoulders hunching up with a shrug-sigh thing. Tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, looking up at me, the corner of her lips twisted in a smile-frown.

I can't help it. I try to swallow the laughter in but it burst out in an almost giggly fashion.

" _Oh my God_." I hear her mumble through my laughter, her face suddenly flushing, as though suddenly realizing what she had just done.

Okay, definitely funny, adorable and interesting. I never remember laughing this hard. My sides are actually hurting. No girl has ever made me laugh like this and this does not include the time Brooke got so drunk, she flipped over from the couch, her skirt going over her head. "Wow," I quip, my lips curling up in a smirk. "Didn't know you had a talent for impersonation, James." My laughter echoes around us and she blushes and helplessly swats at me.

"Shut up." Haley mumbles, her cheeks turning redder by the second. "I can't believe I just did that." She would not look at me. She keeps her eyes cast low, staring right through the table.

"What? Why? Do it again." I entreat her, smiling as she looks up at me, lower lips caught in between her teeth.

"Stop laughing at me." She mutters, making a fist and slanting her eyes at me.

"What? I'm not laughing at you! I thought it was cute." And I am actually being honest here, not trying to get a reaction from her or anything at all. It slips easily out from me - the truth - and it feels actually nice.

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head but I can see her lips curling up. A ghost of a smile. "Just read the damn chapter, Scott and be ready for the practice test. I'm going to make you pay later."

"Hey, that doesn't sound fair to me." I protest, leaning forward, still chuckling.

"Well quit laughing already!"

I gotta tell you, I have never really had any experience with girls like Haley James. She has a way of making me feel a whole myriad of emotion - all new to me. And even if she skips from one topic to another with surprising ease and even grace, after a while, I still tend to remember everything she said and I feel like that's how she intended it in the first place. Like me being a jerk. It takes me a while to realize that every time she calls on me for being a jackass, whenever I apologize, she'll accept it, but she never says that it's okay. Whatever transgression I made, from being late to not paying attention to calling Lucas Bed Sheet Stain, she expects that as soon as I've apologized for it, I'll never do it again. Which I always keep in mind when I'm with her.

I never actually got rid of her voice inside my head. It comes and goes. It's pretty fucking weird but in a good way. I mean, it's not at all that intrusive or anything like that. It's almost like... it's always been there, I just had not been listening to it. Sometimes, it chides me for making fun of Tim and every time that happens I end up inviting Tim for dinner and a game of NBA live. Sometimes, it scolds me for smarting off whenever Whitey tells me to quit being a prima donna and I always end up shutting my mouth and listening attentively to whatever coach has to say. It's never gotten me into trouble - listening to that Haley voice inside my head - so I figure, as long as I don't start acting all cuckoo and wanting to be buddies with Lucas, then I'm fine with it. Besides, it's not like it's the worst thing that could happen. I mean, I could end up hearing Brooke's voice inside my head instead and the day that happens, I swear to God, I am going to shoot myself.

It's just bizarre; the way Haley has ingrained herself into me, without me even noticing it. Anyway, we never mention Lucas after that and I never force her to talk about her relationship with Lucas either. Little stories slips by her but instead of cutting Lucas down as soon as she mentions his name, I let her go on. I haven't learned much, that's for sure, since Haley can be really guarded sometimes and I guess it is my fault if she feels like she has to constantly defend her friendship with Lucas.

I guess the sort of silent truce we had about me not talking shit about Lucas helped a lot. Haley's been more relaxed with me and she even let me buy her coffee last time. The girl can chug down coffee like it's nothing but water. She gave me that smile of hers, kind of reluctant but I can tell her that she appreciates my effort to not be a jackass whenever I'm with her.

So I'm confident to say that at the rate things are going and given my history of charming girls practically out of their clothes and into my bed, I'm giving Haley a few more days before I win her over. In fact, I'd say after next week, I'd have Haley James all putty in the palm of my hands.


	6. Time Out

**Chapter Six** : Time Out

Fast forward to two weeks.

Okay. _Fine_. I could be wrong sometimes. Two weeks had passed. Fuck it. I am certainly still not going anywhere with my plans. Seduce the best friend. Right. This is proving quite to be the challenge. I'm used to girls falling all over me and I'm not even trying to be nice then - in fact, I could be just drunk, sitting by the couch of someone's house and some girl would still fall on my lap. I'm not kidding. That's how easy it is for me to seduce girls. But Haley James is obviously not just any ordinary girl.

I've tried being her polite, bright eyed, well-behaved pupil, passing all my quizzes and writing all those damn essays for my English class. Doesn't work. I mean, it's not like Haley treats me like dirt - in fact, she makes it a point to say 'Hi', ask me how I'm doing, small, polite friendly conversations every time we see each other at school. It makes me feel like she thinks of me as her friend. Which sucks. Big time. I don't want to be _just_ her friend. That is, I mean, as far as the plan goes.

I'm putting a lot of effort into this - honestly, it's been years since I handed in a paper that I had actually written and not bought from the kid in Tim's English class – not so I could win her friendship. What's the point in all of these if I'm going to be just one of her guy friend? I have - no, _need_ \- to be someone more. At least someone who could easily replace Lucas in her life.

It isn't that I'm doing things wrong either. I've caught her looking at me with those huge brown eyes and it certainly isn't a friendly look. At least not the kind she'd give to any of her Rivercourt friends - which by the way are all boys! She'd look... I don't know, softer. Her lips gently parted and her eyes would be darker, almost intense. When she looks at me like that, I feel... well, okay, I'm willing to admit that I feel an odd fluttering sensation at the pit of my stomach, going all the way up to my chest - like something is slowly _unravelling_ inside of me.

I've never felt that way before. It has something to do with her eyes and the way she tilts her head when she's looking at me. I can't explain it. Everything with her and about her is new to me. Give me a few years and I can look back at the days we've spent studying together and I'd be able to let you know, now though, I am just letting myself enjoy the newness that Haley James brings.

Some days, I think I'm about to make a breakthrough - that I could ask her out on, I don't know, maybe a date or something without fearing for my life but if I so much as lean an inch forward, she'd suddenly pull back, as though waking up from a dream and that gentle, sweet look on her face would vanish and be replaced by the more familiar one that tells me, without words that I need to take a step back - again! and concentrate on the math problem in front of me.

Something is holding her back.

Actually, make that _someone_.

Lucas. The guy just annoys the fuck out of me.

But she's still tutoring me, which is definitely good sign. I'll take what I can get, even if it's just scraps of friendly attention and vague, gentle looks. Patience, after all, as Haley had once told me, is a virtue. It's just that, dammit, I was expecting this whole tutor-hanging-out-being-somewhat-friends thing to be just the start not a half-month daily occurrence in my life. Not that I don't like it or not enjoying it, but the point is, by now, I'm supposed to have her up in my room or at the very least have taken her out for a dinner or movie if I can even properly flirt with her?

Damn her loyalty to Lucas.

* * *

I have to admit that, at first, Haley choosing the docks as the place to study didn't quite sit well with me. I even thought it was a bit lame. Which just probably just goes to show how little I know about studying. I've changed my mind since then.

The place grew on to me, ya know? I mean, I have been spending so many mornings here; I kind of miss not going here when I don't have any tutoring scheduled for the day. There is something so calm and peaceful being near the water.

I'm not the water-loving, sea, sand and beach kind of guy. I don't particularly find anything special about it. Yeah, it's a great place to watch girls, rate them and stuff then hook up with them later but other than that, I wouldn't trade any of my regular days, which involves a lot of hours spent in a stinky noisy gym, to hang out at the beach, by the river or anywhere else.

In fact Peyton and I used to argue a lot because she'd bug me about going to other places. Places that weren't her car or my car or my room or her room or the school gym or whoever's school gym that we're playing at or finally, whoever's house that was having a party. I didn't see the point in going anywhere else, since we both know what we'd end up doing anyway.

The fact that I'm actually enjoying being by the docks at the ungodly hour of seven in the morning, listening to the water murmuring right pass us, flowing endlessly, is again, something new to me. New but nice. Like something I could get used to. The calmness, this stillness, and this kind of quiet that isn't overwhelming or suffocating.

I'm used to solitude, being an only child and I tend to want to do things on my own, not having anyone, except maybe Dan to do things with. And with Dan it's always just basketball anyway. But it's not like I felt lonely or anything like that and it's not that I learned to like being alone either, it's just that it was how it had always been at home and that kind of stillness, the emptied-house kind of quiet, that's what I've gotten used to.

This one is different. This is one is broken by the sounds of paper rustling as Haley or I turned the pages of our book, or sometimes, when she softly laughs at some amusing thing that she alone knows. She's not likely to share them with me and sometimes I wish she would - that she _could_. I guess I could always ask her. Maybe I should. I mean, if she doesn't want to tell me, that's fine, but I sure would like to know what's going on inside that pretty little head of hers.

I like it that every morning, we'd sit at our table, our spot by the docks and be so far away from the rest of the world. It's like an extended time out: a few seconds to just sit down, get your bearings, and breathe deeply.

I never really thought that I'd want to get away from it all or that I could. I've always been the kind of guy who'd look at challenge in the eye and rush right into, get it over and done with. I guess with everything that has been happening lately, it made me realize that I do need to take a few steps back, get a break from basketball and the whole Dan and Lucas thing, the constant pressure to be always perfect or at least damn near perfect.

I can plunge right back in, to the madness of it all and I'm fine with that, I can deal with it. I have no urge to run away from it all. I just... it's nice to be able to just not care, even if it's just for an hour and a half. The weird part about it is that Haley is with me during this time away from the Fucked-Up World of Nathan Scott.

I mean, here, with her, I'm just Nathan. I don't have to be the basketball star or the obedient, perfect son or the high school hot shot. And even if I'm sharing that sense of calmness and stillness with her, it doesn't make me feel like she's intruding in my personal solace. It feels more like she's a part of it.

But I think what I like the most is when we're actually studying and talking about stuff, how when Haley talks to me, I can still hear the sound of the river at the background, blending so perfectly with her voice: gentle, lulling, relaxing.

I've come to almost love this place and I guess most of the reason why I do is that it's because it's tied with Haley James. She reminds me of water. I know it sounds really, really stupid and I would not be able to explain why. I can try but I'd end up babbling incoherently about it - which would make the whole thing incredibly dumb and I don't want that to happen, so I don't even try explaining it to myself.

I stretch out my legs and take a deep breath, filling my lungs with sweet morning air. This is the first time that I got here first and it's nice to have the chance to soak it all in, but Haley's absence is a startling enough to pull me out of my thoughts. I look around, frowning. Still no sign of her and her poncho. I pause as I helplessly chuckle at the vision of Haley on our first day of tutoring. I gotta tell you, she must have gone out of the house without anyone seeing her, because I'm sure even her mom would ask her to not wear that damn thing, ever again.

I let my thoughts drift towards Haley and her many Haley-ness. Things I didn't think I'd remember or notice are filed inside my head. There are a lot of things about that girl. I can't believe she can contain it all inside of her. Sometimes she seems to be bursting from it, whether it's joy at seeing my grades or her nervousness about an exam she has to take, which I know she'll ace anyway. And when she gets in a mood, man, she really gets in a mood. This rarely happens at all, but when it does, it's enough to make me think twice about the whole plan.

The only time she's ever really pissed at me is whenever I show up late. Which is why I've made it a point to come here on time, although sometimes, it can't be helped. Dan would often ask me to run an extra mile with him and I try not to argue with him about that because I have a strange feeling that he's going to make me choose between our almost ritualistic morning jogs and my tutoring sessions with Haley and I just might choose Haley.

Today though, Dan was more than satisfied with the usual miles that we'd run and for some strange reason he's in a good mood. Probably something to do with his upcoming Annual Kiss Ass jamboree. It's _the_ suckfest of all suckfests and it's the most important event in the house, it trumps everything. Seriously, it does. From Christmas to birthdays, even my parent's wedding anniversary. And I guess I could understand that, I mean, this is the one day the rest of the Tree Hill Elite go over to our place and lavish my father with nostalgic, endless reminiscing of his glorious past as the Tree Hill Raven scoring legend.

God what I wouldn't give to ditch that stupid party.

I roll my eyes. The party isn't until after two weeks, I am not going to get worked up about it this early; it's like giving my dad some sort of upper hand over me. Sighing heavily, I start to look around again.

Nothing has changed over the last, what was it? Five minutes?

Still no Haley. Figures. First time I'm earlier than usual and Haley isn't even here to see it! I let out a string of mild curses, mindlessly picking up a book and flipping through it. She's obviously running a little late. Another first.

Today is the day of many firsts.

I wonder where she could be. I glance at my watch. Ten minutes past seven. I raise my eyebrows, dropping the book back down on the table, giving up with pretending to have an early start in studying. Without Haley around, studying is back to being a real chore that I wish I could just do without.

After ten more minutes of impatiently waiting for her (I think I've crumpled half the pages of my notebook and shot them all perfectly inside the wastebasket a few feet away from me) I feel my eyebrows coming together. She's never late. Never. Something must have come up, something important - something more important than tutoring me.

I scowl almost immediately. Lucas, probably. I bet his hair would not stand up the way he styles it and he's having an emotional breakdown by the phone asking Haley for an alternative hair product. Jackass.

The thought is amusing enough so I followed it with more pansy-assed scenarios of Lucas being his needy, girly self. It takes me about less than a minute to lose interest on the many ways that Lucas could be such a baby. It's just so fucking lame. I glance at my watch again: sixteen minutes past seven.

My scowl darkens. I swear to God, if Haley is late because of Lucas I am going to burry that shithead alive.

I'll give Haley a few more minutes and as soon as I see her coming over to me, I'm going to let her have it. I mean, really let her have it. It's not every day that the tables get turned. Maybe I can make her feel guilty enough, she'd let me take her out on a date. Movie and pizza. Oh, I know. Vegas is throwing a party this weekend, I'll make her come to that. That'll definitely be a nice little payback for Lucas and the many ways he has gone and fucked this year over.

Speaking of fucked up, ten minutes turned to fifteen, at which point I start to pace around the docks, mildly irritated. Lucas can be such a girl, I know that, but he can't be this much of a girl! I'm starting to think this is more serious than that. What if something had happened to Haley? I mean, the girl isn't a total klutz, as she would always refer herself to, but she isn't the most graceful person either. I've seen her trip herself on the flat, smooth expanse of the gym floor more than once. What if something happened to her and she's hurt right now?

I start to panic a little. Okay, Scott, relax. It's simple, just call her. She's probably going to answer breathlessly and explain that Lucas has lost his lucky pair of panties and has asked her help to go look for it. I take a deep breath, took out the phone from my pocket and proceeded to spend an entire second blankly staring at it.

Motherfucker. I don't even know her number.

How is it possible that I have spent more than two weeks with her and I had not been able to get her cell phone number? I'm dumbfounded by this. And then it takes me another second to realize that since I was so used to girls giving me their phone numbers (even though I'm not asking for it) I hadn't bothered to ask for Haley's. And Haley being Haley had not given it to me either. And she had definitely not asked for my number. A testament to the fact that she didn't think it necessary for us to communicate outside the realms of school and tutoring.

I try to remember her home phone number but I only called there once and she had hung up on me when she realized that I was on the other end of the line. I bite the insides of my cheeks. The girl can frustrate the hell out of me and she isn't even here to begin with! Its seven thirty already but it's still probably too early to call the café… but it's the only number I have where I could contact her.

And what if it's Lucas's mom who'd answer the phone? What am I supposed to tell her? I mean, I've never even spoken to Lucas's mom before. Not even a brief 'hi' or 'hello' and what all of a sudden, I have to call her at seven thirty in the morning looking for Haley James?

And why is Haley James's absence wrecking such havoc out of my life?

I stare at the phone. If I don't call and something had happened to her and Karen had known about it I would feel real bad. What the hell. I try it anyway and I'm not at all surprised when the machine picked up. What now?

Should I go by their house? Her parents would probably still be asleep and if I end up waking them, making them panic and worry over something as stupid as Haley trying to dye Lucas' hair platinum blonde, I'm going to be the world's biggest dumbass.

I stare stupidly at the phone and then into the river and then back at the useless thing clutched in my hand. I have to fight the urge to throw it into the water. I sat at our table for the whole duration of the time we we're supposed to be studying, if Haley had bothered to show up that is. I'm torn between fits of panic attacks and barely contained rage.

Putty in your hands, I thought to myself. Guess who's being stood up at seven in the morning, not even for a date, but for a tutoring session. Guess. Now, c'mmon, Scott, guess!

Alright, sarcasm isn't working for me.

I stay until the very last second of the very last minute and even an extra five more minutes to wait for her. She didn't come. That's an hour and half of waiting and trust me, an hour is enough to get me all worked up. Someone is going to get their assed kicked today. And I don't care who.

* * *

I look like a stalker. You know, the guy in the movies who'd slouch and lean at the wall by the school entrance and glare at everyone who isn't Haley James. I gave an extra dirty look at Lucas when he showed up alone. I don't know why it pissed me off that Haley wasn't with him. I guess because I know now that her not showing up has got nothing to do with Lucas. Although Lucas showing up for school without seemingly a care in the world made me almost sigh a prayer. At least I know that Haley isn't hurt or anything.

That she still has not shown up doesn't take the edge out of my irritation. At her, at me, at Lucas, at the whole world in general. I keep my post and watch everyone going inside the school with hawk eyes, she's not going to slip by me. I won't let her.

The sound of the first bell ringing is enough to make me worry once again. Now I know that Haley might miss tutoring me but she isn't the kind who'd skip school, not if it was for something really, really important. If she doesn't show up by the final, warning bell, I am going to find Lucas and if I have to, I'm going to beat her number from out of him. Of course, I could just probably ask any of her other friends, that kid with the mike probably would be more helpful, but then again, where is the fun in that? Besides, I need to release some of this tension, starting off with Lucas seems like a good idea.

Fifteen minutes before the final bell rings, I push myself off from the wall, heading straight for homeroom where hopefully I'd find Lucas. I take one backward glance and finally, as though I conjured her up just because I couldn't stop thinking about her, there she is: Haley James.

She's practically running towards me and even from where I'm standing I could see her flushed face, her tired eyes and the dark circles that had seemed to have suddenly appeared overnight. I meet her halfway.

"Where the hell have you been?" I practically bark this out as I stand in front of her, blocking her way.

"We're going to be late Nathan!" Haley says in her breathless voice. I frown at her. She's worried about being late? I look at her all over, head to foot and she doesn't look like she's hurt, thank God, but she looked like hell, though. It's obvious that she hasn't slept yet and her usually rosy-white complexion looks too pale, her hair in complete disarray and the worst was the bluish-black circles underneath her eyes. "We can't be late for school! Especially you!" She said, grabbing my arms and dragging me inside.

"What are you talking about?" I ask with a glare.

"Yesterday you said you got detention for being late and I know you were late last Monday, you're on your way to your third strike Scott, now c'mmon and hurry up!"

I don't know why but this only made me even angrier. How is it that she's worried about me getting into trouble when she should be worried about herself? Even I am worried about her. She looks almost sloppy today and Haley never looks anything but immaculate and almost perfect with her well ironed shirts and skirts, and yeah, so sue me if I had been noticing her outfits lately. Whatever. "Okay, stop." I said, planting my feet firmly on the ground which effectively yanked her back to me.

"Nathan-" she starts but I cut her off.

"We still have time." I tell her this with enough confidence to not make her want to check her watch because if she did just that, she'll be back to dragging me to homeroom and then we'll go our separate ways and the next tutoring session would be the day after this and I'll never get to find out what the hell is wrong with her. I mean, I could, but then I'd have to be worried about her for another extra day and I have no plans of doing that. "And we are not going anywhere until you answer me." To make sure of that, I wrap my hand around her wrist. "Now, what happened to you? I waited until eight thirty!" The added twenty-five minutes didn't make me feel any better when she looked up at me with tired, apologetic eyes. "Okay maybe until five minutes after eight." I admitted after a few seconds.

"Nathan, I am so sorry! I can explain but can we do it without us being late for school?" She asks in a pleading sort of voice.

Why is it that I can't say no to this girl?

"Fine." I mutter darkly and before anyone of us had realized it, I had taken her books from her arm and tucked it inside mine. She doesn't try to take them back, testament to how out of it she is today. I mean, I've tried walking her to her class and asking if she'd like me to carry her books and she always gave me that arched eyebrow look of her. Today, she didn't seem to mind and I certainly wouldn't remind her that she's supposed to mind. Anyway, we walk silently at first, my patience wearing thinner by the second. I think of the long wait at the docks and how I have never waited for anyone for that long, ever. I gave her a sour look as we walked on, side by side, shoulders brushing against each other, my hand around her wrist; her books inside my arms.

Wow, is this going to look real strange or what?

"So," Haley starts and I switch all my attention to her, "the baby kept me awake at night. It kept on crying until past three and we just about did everything imaginable to make her stop, I even sang to her! But my mom said I only made it worse." She rolls her eyes at this and takes a quick, deep sigh continuing, "Ugh, my legs are still achy and burny from standing up all night, rocking and walking her all over the house but it was impossible, she was like possessed or something and it's amazing how much that tiny, little thing can cry. Personally, I think she just misses her mom and dad, but I already told you about how Matt and his wife has the flu and they couldn't take care of her. Anyway, Daisy finally got tired around four and she just suddenly stopped crying. She slept blissfully... you know, like a baby, which is what she is, I know, but the expression definitely fits." Haley stops, bites her lips and looks up at me, brown eyes still looking almost sleepy, a little unfocused. "I swear, I did set up my alarm. I didn't mean to sleep through it. I'm really, really sorry, Nathan. It'll never happen again. My mother says she has taken care enough crying babies already and even if she loves her grandchild dearly, she can't do this anymore so today they're taking Daisy to her other grandparents in Raleigh and despite the horrible night of endless baby bawling, I think I'm really gonna miss her and-"

"It's okay." I said, interrupting her rambling. I did remember her mentioning something about her older brother Matt coming down with the flu and dropping their six month old baby at their place. I'm surprised this has not yet happened before. I don't know anything about babies, but I remember a summer not long ago when we spent it at my mom's cousin who had just given birth and the kid was a monster. It cried the whole time we were there. I let out a sigh, expelling everything with it. The worrying and the anger and even the frustration I felt for actually caring this much about things like these. Haley's looking up at me expectantly and in yet another surprising turn of events, I'm starting to feel guilty about making her feel bad about not showing up today. "It's okay." I repeated, almost dumbly. "I'm sorry I kind of yelled at you back there."

"Yeah, I think it officially woke me up." She cringes a little before continuing, "Anyway, I was going to tell you that I won't be able to make it but I realized I didn't know how to reach you." Haley says this almost sheepishly, a light blush coloring her cheeks.

Another thing I have to figure out, how can she be tired and sleepless and most probably stressed out and still be pretty?

"Yeah, about that." I nod towards her bag, "Give me your phone." I watch as she wordlessly dug through her bag and not without a few seconds of hesitation on her part, and just when I was about to snatch it away from her, she finally handed it over to me. I punch in my number and we both listened as my phone started to ring. She raises her eyebrows at me. "Better save my number James, I don't just give it away to anyone."

She snorts. "Clearly, Scott, you have not been to any of the girls' bathroom." She mutters with a small smile. Haley makes a face at my knowing smirk before rolling her eyes and taking her phone back, dropping it into her bag. She takes a deep breath and looks up at me. A stray strand of hair brushes past her cheeks and I am suddenly filled with the need to tuck it back in place, behind her ear. The need is almost too much to bear; I shift my weight from foot to foot, nervously taking a step back. I watch as she swallows hard before tucking the offensive strand of hair behind her ears, thank God, it's about to drive me nuts!

"So, ugh..." I start, suddenly unsure of what to say or do. We're standing in the middle of the nearly deserted hallways and I can feel something inside my chest kicking and pounding. It takes me a second to realize that it's my heart.

"How about we have lunch together today?" Haley asks, tilting her head a little. "To make up for earlier. I know you have a history quiz coming up soon."

It's my time to raise my eyebrows at her. Is Haley James asking me to have lunch with her? This is another first. "Wouldn't Lucas mind? I mean, since you always have lunch together."

Haley shrugs her shoulder. "Not always." She corrects me, "And it’s okay, I'll just tell Lucas, he'll understand."

Oh, yeah, of course, since Lucas is the world's most understanding guy. I mentally roll my eyes. Well, at least this is a definite step forward - I mean, with the plan and everything. If she's willing to ditch Lucas for lunch, then I'm all for it. In fact, why can't we do this every day? "Lunch sounds good."

She nods her. "Good."

We kind of stood there for a whole minute, just me looking down at her and her up at me, the rest of the student body walking past us. This certainly feels a little awkward. I feel like I'm supposed to do something here. Lean forward, hug her. A small, chaste kiss on the cheeks. _Something_.

I blink down at Haley, her eyes searching my face. She is definitely looking at me like I'm supposed to do be doing something to her. Or with her.

I wonder what she sees in me right now. I must look like a right idiot. And I certainly would be one if I do the fist bump with her. I remember seeing Lucas pulling Haley towards him dropping a quick kiss on top of her head. Am I supposed to that too?

And if I did, am I getting my ass kicked? And would it be worth it?

Before, I could even decide, the final warning bell sounds off, startling us both.

"Great." I mutter, hiking up my back pack higher over my shoulder. Saved by the bell. I just don't know whether I should be thankful or not. "C'mmon." I tell her, starting off towards homeroom. She snorts and then lets out a chuckle, shaking her head. "What?"

"My books, Nathan. I kind of need them, you know."

Oh. Crap. "Ugh, yeah. There you go." I hand them over to her, wincing at how incredibly weird and stupid I look right now.

Haley shakes her head again and twists her lips in a semi-smile. "So see you at lunch, Scott?"

I gather whatever remaining confidence I have before flashing her a wide, hopefully playful grin. "It's a date, James."

And then she smiles at me. _That_ smile! That smile she usually reserves for Lucas. Only, this one is accompanied by a faint blush quickly spreading all over her cheeks as she ducks her head and again, tucks a stray hair behind her ears.

I've been a captain for the basketball team long enough to understand and be familiar how important it is to communicate on the court, not necessarily with words but with body language and that smile and that blush and that nervous tucking of hair behind the ears, that's a loud, screaming body language only a real dolt would miss.

I can feel my lips pulling up in a genuine smirk. I watch her walk away and I swear, I tried not to, but I have never been excited for a school lunch date ever before. Things are finally looking up. I am so back on the game.


	7. Forcing a Turn Over

**Chapter Seven: Forcing a Turn Over**

Lunch seems like light years away. And it always has been that way, especially since Coach has managed to get almost half of the team for first period gym class (the other half gets the afternoon schedule) and as he let other students do lame-assed basic basketball shit, the rest of us gets a preview of how official practice in the afternoon is going to turn into. Which mostly is all blood and spit and vomit and sweat.

I am too busy however trying to figure out just exactly what to do with Haley James to pay anyone or anything any attention. I keep thinking that what I really need to do is up the ante. It's time to use some extreme body-to-body pressure. Accelerate the game. A full court press. That's what I need to do. I need to get the ball back to my court or else I am going to be stuck at the docks every morning for the rest of the term wondering all sorts of things about Haley James.

In basketball, most players - at least the pansy assed ones - when body-to-body pressure is involved, they just pass, or dribble backwards, or more preferably back up on their heels and lose their ability to attack. _Turnover, sucker_. I just love moments like that. And I only need to find the perfect moment with Haley James. She's already asked me to have lunch together, so that's definitely a step forward.

I start trying to conjure up as many moments as I could: all the ways I could touch her. Hugging is going to be on top of my list. Then maybe kissing. Making out wouldn't hurt. Some groping would be nice. She's got some real sweet curves and yeah, I've noticed it despite her seemingly insistent ways of dressing up like she's trying to hide them all. I wonder if she's the kind who'd get into the moment and not over think it. I wonder if she makes little noises at the back of her throat. Her humming does some weird things to me and I can bet you, if - no, no, _when_ I finally make her moan my name, it's going to be so fucking hot and sexy.

" ** _SCOTT_**!" Someone bellows at me and I quickly snap out of it, turning my head towards a tomato-faced Whitey who had obviously been trying to get my attention all these time. He barks my name one last time, motioning with his hands to indicate that we need to step inside his office. The rest of my teammates are looking at me nervously. Even Lucas had the grace to look somewhat sorry for what might be in store for me. Tim starts to give me a sympathetic hug but I quickly brush him off.

"Get off me, man!" I tell him in a warning voice. I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I can't believe I had just zoned out. Here On. The. Court! This is sacred place. Usually once I set foot on the gym, my only focus is basketball. Granted that we're on a five minute respite after so many drills but still, I have never let anything distract me from the game and/or practice before. Never.

Of course, it can't be helped that I'm seventeen and currently thinking of the many ways to force and experience some real hard-core body-to-body pressure with Haley James.

_Oh yeah._

Just thinking about her name is enough to leave me on the verge of another pointless - if not highly entertaining, most definitely vivid - day dream. This one involving me and her at the docks, the full moon shining down on her dark hair, making it look a shade deeper. I'd like to wrap her dark hair around my fist, pull her gently towards me and...

"Anytime today Nathan," Whitey shouts, eyes blazing with barely suppressed fury.

The increased volume and look is enough to get my attention, just in time to see the vein at the left side of his head looking like it's ready to burst. Great. I've already made so many fucks up this year, being responsible for inducing the coach's heart attack isn't going to look good in my record. I start shuffling towards his office while I try to shake off the image of Haley's brown sultry eyes, looking up at me, her voice low and gentle as she whispers my name...

"Or you could just keep on making me wait, your choice, of course." Whitey is now officially yelling at me.

"Yeah, yeah." I mumble half-heartedly, walking just a little bit faster as I force myself to erase the image of Haley's brown eyes. Her big, brown eyes. I don't know why, but of all her features, her eyes are the ones burned into my memory, the ones that I keep picturing inside my head. Then her smile, followed closely by her lips and chin. Have I mentioned how cute her chin is?

"Oh I'm sorry, Nathan, do you want to take your time?" Coach asks, raising his eyebrows at me.

I blink for a few times, feeling a little disoriented as I realize that I am not at the docks with Haley, but at the gym, apparently having a face-off with my very, very pissed off coach.

"Well?" Coach asks, his nostrils flaring,

It takes me a few second to figure out just what is it exactly that Whitey is asking me. Jesus. Does he want to sprint to his office? It’s not like he’s walking any faster than I am. I slowly shake my head no. I know for a fact that if I choose to dawdle some more, I'd be kissing my brief high school life goodbye. Coach only rolls his eyes before opening the door to his office. I wordlessly follow him, watching sullenly as he settles in his seat, looking all sorts of grave and angry and just about ready to suspend me.

The old man is positively enjoying the fact that he's been dangling the possibility of my suspension in the air, just right above my nose. He reminds me every day and worse, he does it in front of the team. He likes to make an example out of me so that any other player planning on screwing up wouldn't get any bright ideas. He wants the team to know that he does not care to bench the freaking star player just to prove a point. The Ravens is _his_ team and he does whatever the hell he wants with it - us, to be exact - no questions asked.

I can almost understand why he's doing this but understanding it does not mean that I'm okay with it. I don't know what my dad ever did to Whitey to piss him off so much that after seventeen years, coach is still hell bent on taking it all out on me.

My dad can be a real dick, I know that and I wouldn't be surprised if Whitey ends up doing this very same thing to my son - who of course, is going to be one dammed good basketball player. Preferably with brown eyes. Like Haley's eyes. 'Cause, you know, it can be really annoying having to hear all those giggly girls marvelling at how 'baby blue' your eyes are.

Baby blue. Fuck. Can anything be more pansier than that? At least brown is a safe color. Although not when it's almost the shade of dark, dark luscious chocolates. Like the shade of Haley's eyes when she gets real intense trying to explain stuff to me. Those kind of eyes are trouble with a capital 'T'. Those are the kind of eyes that would make anyone forget about anything and everything.

"Boy, if you don't get your head out of your ass anytime soon, I'm going to kick you out of this office and out of the team so fast your head's going to be spinning until kingdom come."

"I'm listening, sir." I tell him through my dry, parched throat.

"You, Nathan Scott, _listen_? That'll be the day." Coach finally says and I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes. "I can teach you everything I know about basketball and you can do it all, even better than anyone else but I certainly have not been able to teach you how to listen." He says this like it's a great big tragedy and I can hear his disappointment echoing all around the room.

There are only two people in the world who makes me squirm when they use their disappointed tone of voice. Coach and Haley James. And don't ask me how in the hell Haley James wormed her way into that list. I have no freaking idea either. And oh, by the way, as far as my father goes, when he tries the 'disappointed dad' card, it makes me want to punch walls. I have punched walls. And got scolded for it too, after all, how am I supposed to shoot baskets with a broken fist? But whatever, coach knows that he has a way of getting to me and he uses it to his best advantage.

"I think you know why we're both here, son." The look he's giving me is enough to make me want to start pacing the room. The silence stretches on and just when I think I'm about to lose my mind, coach finally, looking extremely pleased with himself, smiles up at me. A slow, calculated smile that's enough to make me wince. But that's all he's getting from me. This is an old game between the two of us and I certainly know the rules by now. Hell, I've been winning the past few years and I'm not about to give coach the upper hand.

"Well, well, Nathan," he starts off, waving a piece of paper in the air and looking at it like it held some sort of amusing secret. "I just got your grades today." He pauses dramatically and I can feel my throat working as I try to think of how many subjects I have successfully managed to fail.

A lot probably, judging by the smile that he's giving me. My father is going to hit the roof tonight when I tell him that I got suspended from the team. He's probably going to finally disown me. I cannot wait for dinner today. It'll be a total massacre.

"Looks like you're going to have to do something nice for that tutor of yours." He tells me, handing me the paper.

"Whatever." I mumble shaking my head, ready to walk out of the room and punch some walls. My dad wouldn't mind, I wouldn't be using my hand any time soon anyway. I blindly glance down at the paper and I think I forgot about looking calm and totally without a care in the world as I feel my eyes bugging out from their sockets. "What the hell?" I mutter more to myself than to anyone else. Is that a B there? I think I might have shoved the paper all the way up to my nose just to be sure that I'm not seeing things. The ink blurs right before my eyes, dissolves and then reforms again. Still a B.

Unbelievable. Haley's only been tutoring me for less than half the term. Un-fucking-believable. The girl is like a miracle or something. I'm beyond impressed. I'm actually, almost turned on.

Whitey shakes his head. "See, listening Nathan. I told you, you never know how to listen. I bet all you can hear is that damn arrogant voice of yours inside your head. I don't know how your tutor can put up with you long enough to get your grades up."

No shit. I don't know either. I look up at coach, trying to get my head to function properly again. Between getting my grades and thinking about Haley and trying to carry on a conversation with Coach, well, it's enough to make my head spin. "You mean, I'm not getting suspended or kicked out of the team?" I ask again, just to clarify.

Coach sighs heavily. "Your tutor might be patient enough to get you passing grades, but I doubt she'd be able to fix that brain of yours."

Coach is so hilarious. "So you're done making me look like an ass out there?" The power has shifted back to my hand. Now that my place in the team is secured, Whitey's done messing up with me. I'm going to make sure of that.

"Done? Nathan, son, I'm only just starting. Now get that ass of yours back in the court. We're doing drive-and-kick drills today."

I have to roll my eyes. Every game, Whitey had asked us, mostly me, to kick the ball over to Lucas so he could score all those three-point baskets. "I am not going to-" I start, hoping to get more isolation plays but this obviously isn't going to work as Whitey merely raises his eyebrows at me, smiling genially. That little smile of his scares me shitless more than his bellowing voice. No one would ever suspect coach of this, but he's master of schemes. He's got all sorts of nefarious plans stored inside his head. I only need to say one wrong thing and I'm going to find myself moved so far down from the bench, I'm going to start wishing that I'm wearing the Raven's mascot costume instead because that's the only way for me to get on court. Coach had told me this one time, verbatim, all the while smiling that smile of his and I think I freaked out so much I went ahead and told Peyton that I wanted to be her boyfriend.

I let coach have this round. Since I'll be sticking around for more of this anyway and I can always win some more. "Whatever." I said in my usual arrogant voice, pocketing the paper inside my jeans, but not before carefully folding it, hoping that Whitey didn't notice. I can't wait to show this to Haley. Maybe I could ask for a kiss. I'm just about on my way out of the door when coach calls me back.

"You better hope that your tutor can help you keep those grades, Nathan. I can still kick you out of the team anytime I want."

"Well, maybe you can tell _my_ tutor to let me do something nice for her." I say this all confidently, smirking at Whitey. _My_ tutor. _Mine_. I kind of like the sound of that.

Coach raises his eyebrows at me as though challenging me. "I happen to know who your tutor is, Scott. She's a smart girl and you better be careful, smart girls are worse than pretty girls. They don't let guys like you fool them."

I scowl darkly, any smart assed reply I might have had goes right out of my head. Coach gives me a knowing look and when it became obvious that I have nothing else to say, he points at the door and I wordlessly got out of the room.

I think that's the first time I let coach get the last word. Great. Fucking terrific. And just what the hell does coach mean by _that_?

* * *

Lunch time.

Of course, like everything else in my life, this has to go horribly wrong too.

It clearly was not a date.

It wasn't even lunch.

Especially not when Haley started to neatly lay out all her history notes on the table. I can feel my eyebrows rising as the pile of paper in front of me got higher by the second.

"What's this?" I ask, idly picking up a piece of a paper, watching as it fluttered violently against the wind. This one, like the rest of the other papers, is filled with her handwriting. There are dates (lots of it) and brief descriptions of what had historically transpired on that particular day. There are also little blue basketballs that she had drawn beside the more important stuff that I needed to remember. I can feel my lips curling up as I trace that outline of the basketballs with my fingers. It's cute - the Haley James brand of cuteness. Not so overly mushy or pansy. Another thing I like about her. That and the fact that she took the effort to draw something that I could relate too.

And I mean, c'mmon, little Ravens Blue basketball bullets? Only the real cold-hearted, cynical bastard kind of person would not think of that as cute.

Haley tilts her head and frowns at me. "We're studying, right?"

The word 'studying' is enough to erase the overly pleased smile I might have had. I scowl at her. I can't help it. This is so far from what I had envisioned all morning as I waited for the lunch bell to finally ring. And I'm sure I am going to get a hell of a time being scolded by Haley as soon as she finds out that I did not understand, let alone hear, anything from the lessons today. All morning I had been staring straight ahead, waiting, waiting... and I guess I was being my sullen, silent, sulky self that even Tim had made it a point not to sit anywhere near me, which was just what I needed.

I had an easier time escaping the evil clutches of Tree Hill High's Junior Elite. Thank God. I just had about enough of hanging out with them. They might be the cool crowd but there are times when I start to seriously wonder why the hell I even bother with them. They don't know anything about me and I certainly don't know anything about them, not that I have any interest in knowing anything about them just as well.

Goddamn the day the cheering squad and the basketball team decided to sit together during lunch time. It was supposed to be a show of solidarity or whatever the fuck it is that Brooke finds amusing enough to be preaching. I'm okay with that, I mean, a little school spirit and team bonding didn't hurt anyone, but it's been the same ever since and I gotta tell you, it gets old pretty quick. Especially in between Brooke recounting her recent sexcapades - the girl is just so classy, and I mean that sarcastically, if anyone is ever stupid enough to wonder - and Tim's lame-assed jokes, like yesterday's: "Yo Nate, check this out, you know when coach always says that there is no I in team, guess what, there's an I in Tim. You know, as in me, Tim. T-I-M."

Hardy-fucking-har-har.

Compared to what I have to go through every day, lunch with Haley was not just enticing it was also promising. And it had started out perfectly, as Haley had chosen a lunch table at the end of the squad. This isn't exactly lunch central and there are just a handful of kids hanging out here, which is certainly more than fine with me, the less people, the less distraction for the kind of thing that I had in mind. Of course, it also suited well for the kind of thing Haley James had in mind.

I place the paper back on the table face down. "No, we're having lunch." I tell her as firmly as I can, pushing the pile of paper back to her. It's been a proven fact that lately, I have not been able to say 'No' to her. Not this time, though. I am definitely standing on my ground, especially with her sitting in front of me, the wind picking up and tossing her hair every which way – and fuck, even the way she puts her hair back in place is distracting enough. No wonder I keep ending up saying "Yes" to her when I meant to tell her "No way in hell, James."

"Well, we could have lunch _and_ study." She says tying her hair in a messy, possibly sexy, pony tail. Her shirt pulls tight against her chest as she reach behind her head and I have to swallow hard.

 _No way in hell James_.

See? Dammit, my throat always, always closes up! It's my turn to frown. I wait until she's satisfied with securing her hair before opening my mouth. "What, studying has to cut into my eating time now?" Time that I could spend just talking and being with her. It has just occurred to me how Haley and I always have to be studying just to be together. What is the deal with that? Can't we hang out just to hang out? Do we always have to have a book in between us? Is Haley so hell bent on keeping me at a safe studying's arm’s length?

"It's a real important test Nathan, you said it yourself, your spot at the team is on the line here."

I sit there dumbly for a few seconds, staring blankly at her as I try to figure out just what the hell she's talking about. It takes me a few painful moments to finally realize what she meant.

 _Oh_. _Shit_.

I remember telling her something along those lines, only I might have exaggerated a little. I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. Great. That stupid little white lie is going to bite me in the ass. Unbelievable. I'm usually good with lying. I mean, I've always lived by the universal Guy Credo that What She Does Not Know Won't Hurt Her and I've certainly had enough practice with Peyton (and the girls that I had dated before and in between my short break ups with her). Honesty wasn't really well preached and practiced at home and anyway, I've always managed to get away with pretty much everything before. Of course, now, with Haley looking so concerned for me, I am just wracked with the kind of guilt that's enough to make me admit that I might have not told her the entire truth.

"Well, yeah." I start, briefly wondering how she'd take it if I told her that I might have lied a little about that history test so that she'd spend an extra hour at our place tutoring me. Knowing Haley, she'll probably make me eat all those notes she had patiently written. She'd watch me chew them all and swallow everything up, all those dates and those blue bullet basketballs.

I wince at that. I'm not really in the mood for paper and ink today.

Fuck this! Why am I always in this sort of dilemma with Haley? And why is it that whether or not I do the right thing it doesn't matter much, because it's going to end up pretty badly anyway. I don't want to lie to her but I don't want her to think of me as a liar - which meant that I have to lie to her now, to cover up for the previous lie.

I'm getting a headache and I swear to God, this is the last time I'm ever going to lie to Haley James. It's just too much trouble and is so not worth it. Before I can say anything though, Haley leans forward, "Look, Nathan, I know you think that being Lucas's best friend means that I am on his side and I am, on his side, that is."

I frown at her. This isn't exactly the kind of pep-talk that I want to hear.

"It's just that," she continues in a sincere, gentle voice, "I know basketball is important to you and I don't want you to lose it." She then starts to explain why, even though I'm pretty much an all-around jackass, I still deserve to be on the team. And it's also important, apparently, to show not just the coaching staff, but to the whole student body as well, at least according to her, that I am working hard for my spot on the team. Making it seem like everything has been handed down to me - which had been that way, pretty much from the start - would not and should not make me feel good at all. I should learn to value the things that I love and they only way to do that is to sacrifice certain things, like a few hours of lunch time and Mother of God, way to lay in on the guilt!

I try not to wince too much as I listen to her, hoping that the way the muscles around my mouth is working, it's slowly turning into an innocent, grateful smile. God forbid if it's pulling up into a smirk, because if there's one thing is this world that I am sure of, beside my name, it's that Haley James isn't a fan of The Nathan Scott Smirk - at least not yet.

This lunch date is supposed to bring me closer to my goal but it's quickly going down the drain, because now I can't even meet her eyes. I try to focus my attention and my smile at some fixed point beyond her shoulder and normally, Haley is quick to notice if I am not looking or listening to her, but I guess the strain from last night is still clinging to her, or that my 'smile' looks sincere enough because she actually looks up at me, her eyes bright, warm and pleasant.

Great now I feel like crap.

"And besides, it's not that hard, you know eating and studying, I've done it tons of times. It's just a matter of hand and mouth coordination." She pops a slice of apple in her mouth, chews slowly, picks up her book and starts reading. She turns her attention back to me. "See, easy. Now you try it."

I tell myself not to be amused with the way she's trying to make it look like this studying and eating thing of hers is fun. Because it's not. And her smiling oh-so-cheerfully, a faint blush on her cheeks, eyes twinkling merrily - it's all a ploy to keep me distracted. Still, I have to say, she looks kind of adorable, sitting in front of me, eyes focused on her book and every minute or so, her hand would reach out to her brown paper bag and she'd take out one slice of apple, biting off small parts, her lips red and wet. The scent of apple rises in between us and I feel suddenly dizzy, light headed.

And I swear, it's the guilt. It's the after effect of guilt, because in a few seconds, I find myself gritting my teeth and helplessly throwing my hands up in the air. I admit defeat. Giving up and giving in with a sigh, I start going through her notes, mimicking her as I occasionally take huge bites from the sandwich my mom had prepared for me today. Something from Karen's Cafe, I bet. And would it be any freakier, I thought, if Lucas just happened to have the same lunch as mine? Cue in the music to Twilight zone, I thought grimly.

We silently ate and studied for a few minutes until I realize that the silence has become somewhat different, deeper. When I glance up at Haley, I find her napping.

I feel my jaws dropping. And I mean this in the literal way. It's bad enough that I actually have to be guilt-talked into study during lunch time (all my fault, fine, okay, admit it!) but for a girl - and not just any other girl, but Haley James - to fall asleep in my presence... this seriously fucks up my ego. I mean, I don't expect to have Haley's attention 24/7 - no guy can ever be that interesting enough and on that note, no sane guy would ever want that kind of obsessive attention - but what the heck?

I was on the verge of waking her up but then I remember that not only did she had a rough time last night and that I had practically rudely yelled at her this morning, I had also, to top it all off, lied to her. All these combined, pretty much ranks me as the worst scum ever. Lowest of the low. Fungi food, or I don't know, whatever micro-organism thing that feeds off on scum and I guess mushroom too (did I mention I also failed Biology?) I glance down at her, the mere sight of those dark smudges underneath her eyes is making me feel even more horrible.

I sit up straighter and for the first time in a long while, I decided to make the right choice, right here, right now. I maybe scum, but I'm not going to be a real first class jerk and put my ego first. If anyone deserves a little nap, it's Haley. So I just let her sleep as I try to be as quiet as I could. I figure it's the least I could do for everything bad that had happened to her and for the other things that I may have directly or indirectly done.

And yeah, okay I did enjoy watching her sleep: lips slightly, softly parted, her dark hair fanned, flowing, spilling on top of the table - a river of rich mahogany against the stark white paint of the lunch table. She's nice to look at. Like a... like... like one of those old paintings, or maybe some sort of a dream. I watch her the whole time she slept. I can't help it. She's so... so _Haley_.

Plus the sound of her deep, even breathing filling up the silence sounds almost as soothing as the sound of the river.

But that doesn't mean that I'm not pissed.

The girl seems to think that she has some kind of super power. She has to let some of the things she's doing go. In between studying, tutoring me, hanging out with Lucas, working the cafe and occasionally babysitting for her sick brother's baby, I can bet that she's still doing tons of other things. I mean, I can understand that she wants to help and be there for everyone, even including jerks like me - that's just the kind of girl that she is – but this kind of lifestyle can't be healthy. The girl needs a keeper, someone to remind her to take a break. Someone to take care of her when things started getting rough.

And then it hits me. I frown and bite my lips. Maybe tutoring me should be the first thing that she needs to drop, since I'm obviously just doing this to get to Lucas but if she's going to be tired like this all the time, then I wouldn't want that.

But then, if she did stop tutoring me, my whole plan is basically shot to hell.

Fucking hell, what kind of mess have I gotten myself into?

* * *

Three days had passed since my lunch with Haley. She had profusely apologized for falling asleep on me and I have brushed it off like it didn't mean anything to me. I'm playing it hot and cold, she's not the only one who gets to confuse the heck out of me. I get to have the pleasure of doing that to her. Hopefully.

And anyway, it seems to be working. At least somewhat. She's been more physically affectionate. None of those wonderful hugs though, more along the lines of friendly, half-joking, almost-painful punches against the shoulders. And I know that sounds just absolutely fucking pathetic, but hey, I gotta start somewhere right?

I sigh heavily, slowly rotating my head and working out the kinks out of my neck. As always, Whitey's diabolically evil pre-game early morning gym class had been brutal. No, actually Whitey was brutal. I think he's trying to kill us all. And that makes me feel slightly better. At least I know that it's just not me. Lucas looked like he was about to pass out. I'm a little sorry that he didn't. That would have at least been something that would amuse me for a while. It would definitely cement the fact that Lucas is such as pansy assed girl who does not have what it takes to lead the team. And yeah, did I mention that I'm still pissed off that despite my improved grades; Whitey is still treating me like crap? Plus the fact that no matter how I try to forget it, I still keep hearing that little jab he made about Haley being smart enough not to get fooled by guys like me.

Guys like me? What the hell is the supposed to mean?

Well, okay, I know he means guys like me and Tim and Vegas who are always out trying to scam pretty girls. Well, pretty and tipsy on the verge of being drunk girls that is. Maybe that is my problem. I certainly haven't really made any sort of real conversation with smart girls before. They sort of bored me. With all those talk about books and school and their GPA average. But not Haley. Haley is smart but she's never boring. And she always never rubs it in my face that she's smarter than me - even though sometimes it makes me feel real bad to think that I can't be as smart as her.

Well, isn't this just fantastic, I thought totally annoyed. Not only is Haley James pretty and kind and funny and nice smelling and smart and not-boring but she's also apparently wary of guys like me. Wary enough to keep me at arms-length.

So maybe it isn't just Lucas who's holding her back.

Maybe it's also me who's holding her back.

Getting her to trust me is so much more work than getting her to fall into my lap and forget all about Lucas. I am honestly running out of ideas and right now. I cannot think about Haley and Lucas and the plan anymore. It's fucking up my head. And since basketball practice is over, I have to switch my attention to actually studying just to get my mind off from this whole shitty mess that I have managed to create for myself.

I try to concentrate on the problem written on the board, frowning as I take down notes, trying to figure out today's lesson. Haley had given me a couple of practice tests the other day and I think I'd like to try out and answer this one problem. Just to mess around with the people inside this class who all think that outside the court, I'm pretty much a moron. Besides, I might as well try to keep those damn grades up. At least that's one less thing for me to worry about - getting kicked out of the team.

From the corner of my eyes, I see Tim nodding his head off, obviously out of it. I smirk at him, all thoughts of the math problem flying out of my head. Well, this is certainly a far better distraction than trying to solve today's problem. I'll just let the smarter kids answer, I wouldn't have been able to figure out how to get the right answer anyway, not without Haley around.

I glance at the teacher, making sure that it's safe before aiming a crumpled paper and tossing it into Tim's open mouth.

Score.

He sucks in the paper, chokes on it and instantly wakes up. I watch as he spits out the paper and practically leaps out of his seat. "Motherfu-" he starts off, looking around and realizing where he's at, Tim shakes his head. "I swear, I wasn't sleeping!" The whole class turns around to look at him and he gives me a pained look as soon as he hears me chuckling.

"Dude, you were drooling." I inform him casually, snickering as Tim wipes the corner of his mouth. I turn my attention back to board, raising my eyebrows as one of the girls in front solves the problem. Well, God damn, we have the same answer! And fucking hell, we're both correct. The realization comes to me in a flash. How much things has changed. I mean, it's an amazing feat that I am actually wide awake listening to Mr. Hopskin, my Algebra 2 teacher, as he explained the exploration of logarithm. That I know what logarithm is, is even more amazing. In fact, it's fucking amazing.

I am not dumb at all. Surprise, fucking, surprise.

I've always thought school was important but not as important as basketball. My dad certainly allotted more time for basketball drills than doing home works. Basketball would get me into Duke, my grades were almost inconsequential. Besides most of my teachers were willing to give me more than second chances when it comes to unfinished home works, late projects and missed exams. Some says it's an unfair special treatment. I call it special consideration. I've gotten used to not studying at all. School work just piled up and so did the lessons until I got too far behind, it was just hopeless to try and catch up.

Until I got a tutor that is.

Well, until I got Haley James as a tutor.

It helps that she's really patient, but she's also good at explaining stuff and she makes it interesting. Well, okay, watching her explain things is interesting.

"My mom is happy to know that her son isn't just a dumb jock after all." I tell Haley, hoping to pass along the compliment, get into her good graces and maybe make her want to keep on tutoring me or at the very least get her to clap her hands when I score at a game. Calling out 'You're so awesome Scott' in a suspiciously sarcastic tone of voice does not count and anyway, Lucas always thinks she always means him. The guys is such a loser.

Of course, this is Haley, therefore, I was wrong in thinking that she'd be pleased with mom's approval of her as my tutor.

She's not happy at all. In fact, this got her into a real snit. I sit, stunned still as Haley starts ranting. This is a whole new side of Haley James that I have never seen before. I've seen her be stubborn and feisty but never this angry. She got so mad, her cheeks turned pale and then slowly two bright red spots appeared, like a blush, only the color is darker, harsher and I could tell that she's really pissed. I've never heard anyone defend me the way she did and I kinda wished my mom's here just to bear witness to Haley going on and on about how unfair it is that people would think all jocks are dumb and that no mother should say something like that, even if it's just a joke.

"You are not dumb Nathan!" She said, grabbing my hand and squeezing it tightly.

I don't know how long we sat there, her holding my hand - her hand is so small, it could barely cover my own hand - but what I do know is that I have never felt that way before. Kind of... happy. Or I don't know thankful to have someone like her be on my side, for once. I squeezed back after a few seconds and I swear, on its own accord, my thumb just started lightly rubbing against her skin. I didn't even think about doing it on purpose to make her feel uncomfortable or anything - in fact that was the last thing I wanted to make her feel, but she obviously didn't like it and she quickly cleared her throat and pulled her hand away.

_Wow, Scott, so much for putting on some hard core body-to-body pressure and forcing a turnover._

I hear resounding, sarcastic applause inside my head.

Well, yeah? Screw the stupid plan. When I was holding Haley's hand, I had not been thinking about the plan at all. I was thinking that her hand fit so perfectly into mine and I'm going to admit that I'm a little sorry that I let her pull away. I mean, I only wanted to let her know that I appreciated everything that she had just said. It's not like I can just say that out loud. I'm no fucking sap. It simply does not run in the family. Of course, Lucas not being actual family, well he can be a sap all he wants, I don't care but I refuse to sound like some pansy assed little boy who needs to have his tutor hold his hand. It's just pathetic.

But I have a horrible confession to make. Sometimes, when I am just itching to touch her skin, I tell her that I can't understand things 'cause I'm a dumb jock. She gets into a real bad mood - bad enough to make her want to hold my hand. And her brown eyes would go big and she would start with her lecture-slash-ramble and footnote, I'm kind of enjoying that too. I know it's sick and completely pathetic but I just can't stop myself. Her skin has become some sort of addiction. She has the softest hand ever and you can count on me when I say that. I have held a lot of girls' hand and hers is the softest and the smoothest and the smallest and the most precious and you seriously can't blame me for that.

Unfortunately, the whole hand-holding scam had to be stopped the other day when she said that if I ever referred to myself as stupid or dumb or whatever, she's going to whack me in the head. And she was serious about it too. I could tell by the way she kept her eyes levelled with me, her voice strong and unwavering.

Do I still want to hold her hand? Fuck yeah. Do I want to get whacked in the head for that? I don't think so. I've seen her do it to Lucas with her Physiology book and even I felt slightly sorry for the guy. The girl has got some serious violent tendencies and the last thing I need is to tell Whitey and Dan that I've gotten a serious concussion because I couldn't keep my hands to myself.

Anyway, after that, I never said anything about me being dumb anymore and the funny thing is, sometimes, I think I believe her when she says that I'm actually kind of smart. I miss having her touching my hand though and I feel like a total wuss, cause if she were just any other girl, I can just easily take her hand and that would be the end of it but, no, not Haley James. She'd never allow that. She'll just pull away and tell me to concentrate on my practice tests and I let her. I don't want to look all needy when I'm with her.

Sometimes, I think she's on to me. I think she knows that she's part of some evil plan (after all, she is a smart girl) and she's hell bent on confusing me and rattling me. I mean, why else would I sometimes catch her looking at me like... like she could like me?

Sometimes, I want to know the answer to that question. Sometimes, I think I' be better off if I didn't know how she really fells about me.

Sometimes, I just really want to kick myself for... well, for all sorts of reasons, but mainly for not being able to accomplish the goals that I've set for myself. The plan was supposed to work without a hitch, nice, quick and clean and yet here I am now, essentially still at the place where I started and I have to admit, I've come to the point where Drastic Times Calls for Drastic Measures now applies.

I've had enough of pansy assed Nathan.

It's time for plan B.


	8. Never Underestimate Your Opponent

**Chapter Eight** : Never Underestimate Your Opponent

Okay, so technically, I really don't have a plan B. Which sucks, I know. I'm a little disappointed in me for not coming up with one. But it isn't like I'm the master of all schemes. I mean, I know I fit perfectly in the Arrogant Jock Category but I have never really tried to purposely ruin anyone else's life. Well, not ruin exactly. Just make it suck as much as mine does. Besides, it should be fair game. Lucas has been taking everything from me the moment we had that little one-on-one at the Rivercourt I just can't step aside, twiddle my thumbs and let him do everything he damn well pleases. Scott men aren't made that way. At least not me or my dad or my grandad anyway.

I sigh heavily, staring at the ceiling of my bedroom. I've been staring at it for hours on end, hoping for some sort of inspiration to hit me but nothing. Fucking zero. What the hell had I been doing for the past three years with all the girls that I have managed to fool around with? And why do I have a sinking feeling that it's useless to even think about it anyway. I'm quite certain that if I tried any of those with Haley James, I'd be more than likely to get a black eye than a few moments of alone time with her in my bed.

Case in point, yesterday, in what had been a lame attempt at Plan B, I had invited Haley over to our beach house for tutoring and I swear, I must have been giving her some sort of smirk or smile or look because she looked at me that way again, the look she had the first time she was at my dad's beach house for a party. Like she could just easily walk away from me and never ever look back.

I hate that look. I just want it erased forever from her face.

And okay, so I might have told her that we had a full bar and no one to check for I.D.s. - a line I had gotten from Vegas, one which he swore had gotten him at least a ten out of fifteen success rate in getting girls to come to his dad's beach house. I must have been so completely out of it to have tried that line on Haley.

And we had been getting along great that day. She even sort of chuckled-snorted at some of the jokes I made. I don't make jokes very often. Anyway, I had thought that maybe, my problem was I had been second guessing myself, being a little too cautious, letting so many opportunities pass me by as I worried about how she might feel if I said or did something that was completely unrelated to whatever we were studying. So, that day, when she looked up at me, trying to hide her laughter and miserably failing at it, I thought I could coax her into a flirty, playful mood.

I scowl darkly, remembering the way she glared at me as she walked out of the tutor center. It took me the rest of the day texting her apologies and even waiting for her to finish up at the tutor center to apologize in person for her to finally forgive me.

It's all Vegas's fault. I am never, ever going to listen to him ever again.

Screw that. I am never ever going to listen to anyone on the team who says that they can get any girl that they want with just the snap of their fingers. Obviously, they haven't met Haley James.

And God forbid that they do. I don't think I can handle having an all-out war with my own team. The bad blood between me and Lucas is already screwing up the team and it could only get worse if I end up threatening everyone if they so much as think about Haley James. Although, I kind of wish there's someone I could ask about Haley. There's a ton of things I want to know about that girl – things that if I personally asked her would get me into trouble.

Well, there's Lucas of course.

I can't help but snort at this. Hey, maybe tomorrow I should do that. Just to piss the guy off.

_"Hey Lucas, seeing as you have like weekly sleepovers with Haley, is she more of an over-sized t-shirt wearing kind of girl or lacy black satin tops? Both are sexy of course, I just want to know which kind of sexy she is."_

That sounds promising. I have to remember that.

And I have to stop picturing Haley in a lacy black top.

Groaning out loud and rolling unto my stomach I shake my head off any images of Haley – especially images of her alternating between wearing my blue jersey and a lacy black satin top - that just won't solve any of my problems.

Well, on a second thought, it could solve _one_ of my problems right now, but dammit, I have to stop thinking with my head down in Gutter Land. That is probably one of the reasons why I am not going anywhere with Haley. I mean, the whole plan, although not completely flawless, had been solid. Straight forward. It has success written all over it. Obviously, I had screwed up. Somewhere, somehow, along the way I got side-tracked. Blindsided. I need to figure out when everything started to get complicated. I just can't seem to pin point the when's and the how's.

I keep thinking it might have been the day Haley smiled at me for the first time, when I answered one question correctly, her eyes, her whole face lighting up. But then, that just couldn't be it. A smile would not have wrecked as much havoc on my plan – neither should a hug or a concerned, hand-squeeze. So it must be some other thing. Some other thing that I seem to be missing.

And, to add up to my growing list of problems to deal with, even if I do come up with something that can further my goal of seducing Haley, having to hear the Haley-voiced conscience in my head muttering: Gee, Scott, that's real mature - well, that just can't work.

Damn it.

The worst part, beside the fact that I am obviously completely way over my head, is I can't blame anything on anyone. I wish Tim had thought of this whole stupid plan so I could come over to his place and kick his ass. But since I came up with The Plan, I have no one else to blame but own, stupid, horny self.

And yeah, just to put everyone up to speed, I decided to stick with the mental image of Haley wearing nothing underneath my blue Ravens jersey, sprawled innocently on my bed, her impossibly huge, impossibly sexy dark eyes darkening.

This is going to be a long night.

* * *

If coach isn't trying to kill us with his suicides and drills, he's trying to bore us to death by making us watch tapes after tapes of every imaginable high school basketball game he could get his hands on.

Today we're watching Game One of last year's state finals. Oak Lake vs Verona. I stare at the flickering screen in front of me as coach presses the pause, play, fast forward, rewind button. I don't know any more what part of the game we are watching, just that I have seen this same game one too many times already.

We have the very same tape at our house. Dad taped it for me. Not 'cause I managed to miss the game or anything, but because I need to have something to watch as I wait for the next season to come, as he had so lovingly stated. I need to watch it with him too, 'cause it's important that I hear all of his commentary about the game. Especially the part about how it could have been the team. It could have been me. But it hadn't and apparently, it was because I had fallen short. Yet again.

 _Here's the tape, son, watch it. It's the perfect ending for_ your _team's miserable season._

It's funny how dad likes to call the Ravens his or mine or coach's depending on his mood. Like, if we're losing, it's _my_ team. But now that we're actually undefeated, it's _our_ team - his and mine.

I just love it how my dad and I can share both the good times and the bad times.

"Dude, Oak Lake cheerleaders are like, really hot."

I turn to glare at Tim and sitting next to him, Lucas had also turned to give him a look. For a brief second our eyes met and I could feel some sort of… I don't know, like we had been thinking of the same thing and had he been just any other guy from the team, we would have shared a knowing smirk or something but because he's the bastard son, I shake my head in disgust.

"What the hell are you looking at?" I ask, feeling my irritation soar as he snorts and shakes his own head.

"Right, sorry." He whispers, looking around and leaning forward, "I forgot you're the psychotic, jealous, possessive boyfriend."

"What did you say?" I must have misheard Lucas, because if I didn't, then Lucas is looking to get his ass kicked today.

"Is there something interesting you three would like to share?" Coach suddenly asks, looking at Lucas and then Tim and then finally at me.

I clench my jaws and slouch deeper into my seat. I can feel Coach's eyes boring holes into my forehead as he stands silently in front of the TV, waiting for a response. I hope to God he can't read minds, because if he can, I am going to be in so much trouble. It wouldn't take a genius to know that I had stopped listening to coach about an hour ago. I have no idea what he's been yammering about all these time.

"So how about it boys, maybe y'all can help me out here and explain what is going on with Verona's 1-3-1 defense zone and why it didn't work out so well for them."

I can feel coach eyeing us, doing his little _eenie-minnie-miney-moo: let's see which Raven is going to get it today_ look.

I try not to squirm too much as he stares at me for a full second and just when I think I'm about to get kicked out of the room, he very slowly turns his attention to Tim. "How about we start with you Mr. Smith."

I discreetly let a small sigh of relief.

"Coach, I wasn't talking about that!" Tim starts in a slightly panicked voice, "I just said that the cheer-"

"Verona's the smaller team," Lucas mumbles, interrupting Tim. Everyone inside the small room switches their eyes from Tim to Lucas as he squints at the screen, shrugging his shoulder. "They should've just stuck with 2-3 zone D. Double team the post, have three bodies close to the basket. Crash the boards."

It's my turn to snort. Lucas the know it all. Walking basketball encyclopaedia. What a fucking loser.

"Yes, Nathan? Anything to add?"

I roll my tongue inside my mouth, tried not to let my temper get the best out of me - but I'm sorry, I'm a little pissed off today, seeing that I didn't get any sleep from last night and Lucas spewing off his basketball words of wisdom - well, that just does it. I suck in a deep breath, giving Lucas one last glare. "Verona sucks. It's as simple as that. Oak Lake's taller and stronger. Verona's weaker. It's a mismatch, it's what it is. The 2-3 zone isn't going to make any difference."

Whitey smiles evenly at me before turning to address the whole team. "Well you Ravens, at least according to Nathan, must suck pretty badly too since you didn't even make it to the finals last year."

I hear some muttered comments behind me and I grit my teeth. That is not what I had said! Of course, trust coach to spin it into something like what my dad would say. Opening my mouth I tried to correct myself, do some damage control but Coach quickly throws me another smirk before continuing in a rush, "And Nathan, just to refresh your memory, this is the first game that we're watching here. Verona actually won the state championship. But you're right, it was a mismatch. The only reason Oak Lake lost was because they thought they were too damn good to be bothered with a smaller team like Verona. And you would've noticed that if you have been paying any attention. Now, goddammit, eyes and ears on the game!"

And then suddenly, vaguely listening as coach rambled on, wildly swinging the remote like some sort of baseball bat, I realized my error. A huge fucking mistake that I should not have made.

I underestimated my opponent.

That's why I can't do anything right with Haley! Because I expected that she'll let me coax her out of her mild and somewhat justified anger with me. That I could just use my charms and my stupid little lines. I expected that she'd put up a fight, yeah, but that in no time, she'd give in to me. After all, she may not be like the rest of the sycophant cheerleaders I was used to but she's still a girl and therefore, susceptible to all my charms. I mean, I may not be one hundred percent sure, but I do know that she's somewhat attracted to me. I mean, she has to be, right?

Damn. I had been underestimating Haley James!

Whitey had always told me that I am too arrogant for my own good and he's right. At least this one time he is. The opponent had always been Lucas. But now, the game has changed. Lucas isn't my main concern now. It's Haley and how I can push past her defenses.

* * *

The good thing about being a basketball player is that I am built to notice everything. Trained, actually, to be aware of every little things

Like in court, even the slightest change in the direction of someone's left feet - a point guard for example - could mean that he's going to fake a left, drive hard on my right and get to the basket before I even have the chance to blink. I can't let that happen. And even if I have my eye on one player, I still have to keep my teammates' position in check. I must be able to map out where they'd be. If I get to steal the ball, I gotta know if I can pass it to someone else or if I have to run with it to the basket at the end of the court.

Ever since I realized my mistake, I've made it a point to always keep an eye on Haley. And I've been noticing a lot of things about her. Aside from her smelling nice and being charming in her own Haley James way, that is.

She likes to bite her lips. A lot. She rarely wears make up. Usually just lip gloss. The clear kind. Or sometimes, when she's in a good mood, a darker shade - the color of strawberries. It makes her look totally different. But different in a definitely good way. She has nice skin. Real smooth looking and magnolia white. She has a thing for ugly ponchos. She doesn't take off the crackerjack bracelet that I gave her. And she tries to hide it when she catches me staring at her wrist. When the sun hits her hair, it looks almost blonde-red. She has an expressive face but she uses her jaws a lot when she's angry or frustrated. When she's confused, she crinkles her nose. She writes slowly, neatly. None of those girly curves and swirls. She listens quietly when I start ranting about Dan but is quick to tell me to shut my trap when I start trash-talking Lucas. She reads books that no one is requiring her to read. Yesterday, she was reading Emma and she'd write down quotes from the books which I later found out she gives to Lucas in the hallway every morning, before class, when they meet up by Lucas's locker. Apparently, Lucas collects quotes. Don’t ask me why.

She tries her best not to laugh at my jokes but I've been successful in making her chuckle (Score!). When caught off guard, she'd smile so openly, so warmly, that I can't help but want to make her smile again. She turns off her cell phone at the start of our tutoring session. She is never late - except for that one time and she's never been late again. When she thinks that I'm too engrossed doing math exercises, she starts humming and I can never figure out what song it is, but it always sounds like a sad lullaby. She writes poems or songs. Maybe both. I know if she's writing something not about school or the book that she's reading. I know it because she tries to make her handwriting smaller and she'd always write it in the same brown-paper covered notebook. She's kind if I make dumb mistakes. And she's...well, she's Lucas best friend and of course, she's nothing like the rest of the girls that I usually hang around with.

And I have to admit, she's refreshing that way.

Haley especially loves tutoring math. She says that math is beautiful because it's all about structure and method and for some strange reason she thinks I'd appreciate that. She says, basketball is a lot like math but I have yet to see the connection. I told her instead that she makes math almost enjoyable and I just can't say no to math anymore. I didn't even know what exactly that means, but I made sure that I looked into her eyes when I told her that and she had colored prettily. Warmly.

So I just need to remember to tell her nice things all the time. I don't know why, but she acts like no one has ever told her things like that, which is really wrong, since she is pretty - in an open, soft, sweet kind of way and she has wonderful - some would even call it soulful - brown eyes and she's really funny and feisty and well, sometimes, when it's still incredibly early and I'm still feeling woozy from lack of sleep, in the early morning light, sometimes, she even looks cute. Like dateable cute.

But then she'd start lecturing me on being late or not paying attention and the images waves and wavers and she becomes... sexy and she stays sexy the whole day.

She cares about my grade. Sometimes, I think she even cares about me as well. Whenever we had a rough practice or even a tough game, she'd cut me some slack and take off some of the tutoring hours just so I could get some rest. I never ask her this, because I don't want to not spend some time with her but she thinks that I don't need to be tutored that often anyway since I'm getting better grades. I told her that I need to be tutored even more; I might get too over confident and slip up and she teasingly replied that it's not humanly possible to be more overly confident than I already am. So as a compromise, I told her that we could still meet up at the tutor center, we didn't have to study, I just want a quiet place to think and clam myself down before a game. It doesn't bother me all that much that she knows I'm not exactly the epitome of hot shot, confident basketball jock. I think she's the only one who knows that.

Sometimes, I think she knows more about me than I know about her.

And now, I have a bigger problem.

The things I notice about Haley James are nowhere near helpful. At least as far as the plan is concerned. It does not help me at all.

* * *

The elusive Plan B just found me this evening. Of course, it's more like Plan B, The Sequel and we all know how sequels go. They tend to suck, I know, but I can't be calling it Plan C, 'cause that's going to sound really, really stupid. So I'm sticking to Plan B, Part II.

I just hope this doesn't blow up in my face.

It's Friday night and I had been tossing my phone from one hand to the other, all hour trying to think of how to bring said Plan B into action and then it occurred to me that I was spending way too much time planning about the whole damn thing. I want it to sound spontaneous, like something I had just thought of and not agonized for a whole week.

Alright, not agonized _exactly_ , I mean, I lost some sleep over it and missed out a few meals, but you get the picture.

But, yeah, going back. The way I see it, this is where my plan will finally come in fruition. Haley and I had never had a smoother, calmer, friendlier week. We even started to banter the other day. The girl sure knows how to keep me up on my toes and aside from enjoying the fact that she's definitely more comfortable talking with me, being teased by me, I took it as a good sign that it's time I finally try to slowly wean her away from Lucas. Get her into my side. And it all depends whether she'll say yes or no tonight.

I have been trying to talk myself into going to the café to ask her personally but going to that place is still a little too much for me and I generally wasted my time lurking at the corner street watching her and Lucas do their bestfriend thing - and seriously, after this plan, it would be nice to go back to not being a stalker-slash-lurker.

So, anyway, here I am now, sprawled on my bed, back to trying to talk myself into calling her. The fact that I have to talk myself into anything is beyond comprehension. But this is an important call. I can't and won't screw this up.

I had called her many times before, of course, but it's always about official tutoring business - no social, friendly calls, whatsoever. I gotta remember to keep the tone light and playful, kind of like the last conversation we had, where there had definitely been some small doses of flirting.

I smile slowly, quite taken by the notion that, yes, ladies and gentlemen, she, Haley James is flirting back.

And, well, yeah, okay, it's just a teensy, weensy bit of flirting back but it's there alright. I saw her flutter her eyelashes up at me one time: her smile small, secretive, sexy. It lasted for of a fraction of a second, but that works for me.

I take a deep breath, dial her number and waited silently as her phone rang. All I need to do is to stay focused.

"Hey James, what are you wearing?" Is the first thing I ask her when she picked up her phone – and that was not what I had been planning to say at all, but the image of her looking up at me, thick dark lashes fluttering close for a second… well, it's distracting!

"Who is this?"

I scowl and sat up in bed. That's a guy voice. What the hell? I'm calling Haley's cell phone; it's past ten, why is a guy answering her phone? I have kept an eye on her for weeks on end and she does not have a boyfriend. I made sure of that from day one and even if she had one, he'd be out of the picture by now. "Is Haley there?" I asked through tightly gritted teeth.

There's a long pause at the end of the line and then: "Who the hell is this?"

I sigh, finally recognizing the voice. Wincing a little, I relaxed my grip on the phone, plopping back into the bed. I am almost tempted to hang up but then to do that would mean that I had let him win. No way in hell.

"Who the fuck are you?" I ask, even though I have a fairly good idea who has Haley's phone.

"Okay, listen here you little perv, I don't get this whole 'what are you wearing?' line of yours but I'm fairly certain you got the wrong number."

"No, I got the right number."

"Then I want to know how the hell you got my friend's number."

She has a name, dickhead. I roll my eyes. Protective? More like psychotic and paranoid. He's probably squinting his eyes right about now and I am quickly losing my patience. "Why don't you mind your own business? Is Haley there?"

"Is this Nathan?"

I let out a fairly impressive snarl. "Yeah this is Nathan. You got a problem with that?"

There's a light chuckle at the end of the line and I can just imagine Lucas shaking his head, finding this all so amusing. "Don't you find it just a tad bit disturbing for a guy to ask James what he's wearing?"

Wow, Lucas' sense of humor is just at par with Tim. I glare at the ceiling, my left hand curling up in a fist. "I meant James as in Haley James you moron!"

"Who you calling a moron? Listen here Nathan, I don't care if… Ow! Hey! Wait! Haley!"

I hear some mild scuffling in the background and then suddenly, Haley's voice: "Lucas, what are you- is that my phone? Gimme that. Who are you talking to?"

I hear Lucas vaguely mumbling what sounded like, "some asshole."

I am so going to pound that guy to dust. No, dust motes. No, smaller than that even.

"Hello? I'm sorry about that...I -"

"What the hell is Lucas doing there? Oh, no wait, don't tell me, another girly sleepover, right?"

"Nathan?"

Again, for the second time, I answered in a curt affirmative that yes, this is in fact Nathan Scott - and this is seriously starting to piss me off. Why does it seem so completely surprising that I am calling her?

"How is the pajama party with Lucas?" I ask, fighting off the sudden urge to drive over her place and yank the bastard out of her bedroom.

"It's not a pajama party, Nathan. It's TCM night. We're watching –" there's a rather long pause, "I'm sorry, I'm _forcing_ him to watch Clark Gable marathon movies with me."

I frown at this. The name is vaguely familiar. I've heard it around the house when I was younger. "The guy who married that bratty girl Red or something?"

"Scarlet." Haley corrects me and I could hear her chuckling softly. "And oh my God, Nathan Scott, you know _Gone with the Wind_?"

"My mom made me watch it!" Jesus Christ. This is not the kind of conversation I want Lucas to be privy about. "I was ten," I quickly add, pausing long enough to hear a high-pitched, odd noise coming off from Haley's end. Grumbling a little, I ask: "Is Lucas _laughing_? 'Cause if he is, tell him that that's just fu-" I stop, censoring myself. "That's just rich, considering that he's over there actually watching those films with you."

"Nathan says 'hi'."

This is enough to make me sit up once again. What is Haley playing at? "Hey, take that back! I didn't-"

"Yeah?" I hear Lucas snort. "Well, tell him to go screw …" the voice becomes muffled and I suspect Haley had covered the mouthpiece with her hands, but not enough apparently, since words still flittered in: "Jerk… just hang up… wasting our time."

There's a soft, tired sigh at the end of the line and I can clearly envision Haley shaking her head, rolling her eyes. "Luke says 'hi' too and he's sorry for being rude."

"I am not... I do not... Haley, take that back!"

Lucas sounds like he's about to completely lose it over there. I can feel my eyebrows rising at Lucas's choice words directed at me. I'm pretty sure he just called me a 'needy little daddy's boy' but Haley must've moved away from Lucas since I can't hear much, except for the end part of Lucas's tirade and I'm not about to take everything he had just said sitting down.

"Oh yeah? Well them him that…" I stood up and started pacing the room. I have a long list of things I want to tell Lucas.

"Oh, shut up."

Although said with much affection, I stop dead on my tracks, confused. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Oh, I didn't mean you, Nathan. I meant Lucas. Yeah, I meant you."

"Huh?"

"Oh, God this is insane." Haley mumbles, "Could you hold on for a minute?"

"Sure." I mumble back, what else is there to say?

_No, let's keep on talking like we've all lost our heads. This is fun. Hey, I have an idea, why don't we three-way this conversation, that way Lucas and I can freely hurl verbal abuses at each other. You could referee us. Keep track of the score._

I roll my eyes. Lucas, the bastard, always finds a way to ruin my plans. I am not even surprised at all.

I hear Haley vaguely mumbling, turning her attention to Lucas. "Luke, could you just go down for a few minutes and make yourself useful. I don't know. Do whatever. Get me another glass of milk, please. Yes, I am thirsty. _Because_! Could you just... Thank you."

I didn't say anything until I hear a door slam close. I take in a deep breath, groaning internally. Could this conversation get any worse? "I guess this was a bad night to call." I finally tell Haley as I slid down the floor of my bedroom, feeling oddly spent. I never really did enjoy fighting with Lucas. It always seemed like such a chore to me lately. Like something I ought to do to please – I don't even know who anymore.

There's a short chuckle from her end and then, "Yeah. And a little late too."

"'M sorry." I mutter lamely. I know my apology lacked the necessary sincerity required for it to be considered as an actual apology, but I'm not really sorry I called. It's more like: 'I'm sorry I called and it's just my luck that Lucas had to pick up the phone.' I let out another sigh before continuing, "I just..." I pause and tried to think of what to say. This should be easy and yet for some reason it isn't.

I think this is because I haven't actually officially taken the effort to call a girl before. I mean, I know I always said I'll call but I never really would and even when I do call, I never made it a point to make small, polite talks. Just get on with business. Time and place. Who's party? What drink to bring? Those kind of things. Nothing like this. I must have been silent a lot longer than I thought because I could hear the worry in Haley's voice as she gently asked me if there was something wrong. I close my eyes, seeing her face: She's frowning right now, her lips slightly puckered up with concern.

"Oh, no. I mean, nothing's wrong. I was just –" I clear my throat and take a deep breath. Here goes Plan B, The Sequel: "So Vegas's party tomorrow."

"Yeah, I've heard about it. Actually, I think I kind of got invited to that."

My head snaps up. "Yeah? By who?"

"Jake mentioned it to Lucas and since I was there with Luke, I guess he was being polite and asked me to go too."

 _Jake_? Where was I when this happened? And what the hell, _Jake_? I can feel the pit of my stomach turning into small knots. Enough to make me feel just a little bit queasy. "Oh, so are you, ugh, going? With, ugh, Jake?"

I mentally groaned out loud and added a swift mental kick to my head. Holy crap. That sounded really bad. Like worse than Tim bad. What is wrong with me? I manage to sound both stupid and resentful and even slightly jealous – which, I am for the record, not. I’m just sort of baffled by the sudden mention of Jake's name. I mean, not once, in all the times that Haley and I had talked during tutoring was Jake's name ever mentioned and now _he_ has the nerve to invite Haley to Vegas's party? And when was the last time I saw Jake at a basketball party anyway? It had been months since he last made an appearance. I remembered since he was with that hot, albeit slightly hoe-looking, chick Nikki or something.

"I haven't really thought about it yet," Haley was saying and I immediately focused all my attention back to her, "Besides, it's going to be you know, basketball crowd. Jocks and cheerleader. I don't know if you've noticed, but it's not really the people I hang out with."

I've noticed, I thought with a grimace. I was hoping she wouldn't bring that up. It's not like I can argue with her on that fact. God, this isn't how I planned our conversation to go. Not at all. I swallow hard, sliding even lower unto the floor. I can already feel her saying 'No' and a lot is riding on this stupid party. There has to be something, some reason for her to come.

"You should go. It'll be fun. I mean, Lucas will be there." I pause, bit my tongue hard before continuing, "And Jake." I think I actually spat the name out but Haley didn't seem to hear anything venomous at my tone so I went on, hoping to sound a little bit more cheerful, "And I'm definitely going to be there."

"I don't know Nathan." I can hear the hesitation in her voice. "I mean, Lucas isn't even going to come."

"What? Why not?" Jesus, what did the guy want? A written, formal invitation? I go out of my way to get Vegas to invite the whole team, especially Lucas and now he isn't even coming?

"Oh, I don't know, something about the last shindig we attended with the rest of you guys. Let's just say fun wasn't anywhere near that party. Traumatic maybe, sure, but no, definitely not fun."

I feel my lips quirking up. Who says 'shindig?' Apparently, Haley James does. Another thing I'm gonna remember. "Well, I was a jerk back then."

"Back then? Did we like, took a leap twenty years in the future? Am I talking to the future Nathan Scott?"

I can hear her trying not to laugh in between her words. "Yeah, you're really funny Haley."

"I know. I find me funny too, thanks."

"C'mmon James, the party would be totally boring without you."

"Really?"

"Yeah," I answer truthfully. "How many funny high school basketball players do you actually know, I mean besides me?"

"Or cheerleaders."

"Exactly."

"Well, okay. I will. Think about it."

"You do that." I barely get the words out, it sounded more like a grumble.

Think about it. Not good enough but if I say more, it's not going to sound like a casual invitation and I don't want to be like desperate or whatever. I mean, I am not supposed to be too bummed out that she can't come, even though I am little more than just bummed.

I fucking hate Lucas and his new best friend, Jake.

"So is there any other reason why you called?"

"Ugh... yeah, I was wondering if we could meet up on Monday, I mean I know tutoring is officially every Tuesdays and Thursdays but I ugh... need help with uhm, my..."

Shit. Now what? I don't have my school stuff with me, I have no idea what paper needs to be written.

"English paper?" Haley asks.

"Yeah, that." I answer, pinching the bridge of my nose. Is there an English paper that I was supposed to write? Crap. Mother crapper. I didn't know anything about an English paper!

"Oh, okay. Sure, no problem. I'll see you at the docks then."

I sigh. Fucking Plan B. "Great." I say, with as much enthusiasm as I can muster.

I hear Haley laughing, "Well, don't sound so excited Nathan."

Despite how horrible Plan B had failed, I feel my lips curling up. Haley's laughter does some weird shit to me. "How about you promise to wear a cute short skirt on Monday?"

"Uh-huh, yeah, whatever."

Haley's definitely blushing now, biting her lips, her eyes twinkling merrily and I am suddenly bowled over by the force of how much I want to see Haley right there and then. I haven't felt that way for a girl… well, ever. I close my eyes and force myself to stay put and not come charging at her door. I have no reason to come visit her tonight - or any other night for that matter - although, I'm honestly hoping that after the party, that'll change.

"'Night, Haley. Sweet dreams." I tell her, lying fully down at the foot of my bed, hand curled up in fist, resting heavily against my chest, completely ignoring the way my heart is thumping madly inside my rib cage. It feels as though it's trying to batter its way out - it's almost kind of painful, but not really. It feels odd and somewhat comforting.

Wow, some really weird shit is happening to me right now. I must have drank dad's spiked energy drink. I thought it had tasted a little too vodka-ish.

"You too, Nathan." Haley is saying, her voice soft, lulling. Gentle. And there's a briefest pause in between, like she's going to say something important, but she obviously changed her mind, 'cause the next thing she said was a friendly, "G'night." And then she quickly hangs up.

I still have the phone in my hand as I try to imagine how she looks right about now and I can feel my smile quickly becoming a grin which then quickly dissolved into a scowl.

Right. Lucas is spending the night with her. Bastard.

And she hadn't actually say 'No' but she didn't say 'Yes' either, although it was clearly veering towards 'No', which means that tomorrow I'll be spending the rest of the day waiting for Vegas's stupid party, not knowing whether or not she's going to show up.

I should have called this Plan C.

I so totally fucking jinxed it.


	9. Read and React

**Chapter Nine: Read and React**

"It's a party Nathan, don't look so glum." Brooke Davis commented, sashaying in front of me, her dark blue skirt swaying between her legs. A couple of girls are hanging back behind her, eyeing me and the rest of the team. They're all wearing identical sly smiles and holding the red plastic cup of beer the same way Brooke does. It's like seeing Brooke Davis carbon copied five times. It's enough to give me a headache.

I let out a sigh, shaking my head, not even giving Brooke the slightest glance. Routh and Zach, who are still infatuated with her (mental roll of the eye) gives her a quick hello, trying to start some sort of conversation. The rest of the guys who already had their taste and fill of Brooke Drama pretty much ignores her, eyes glued on the screen watching Damien West from Oak Lake miss his free throws. Some benched sophomore shithead broke into coach's office and got all the old tapes. We're watching the final game of Oak Lake vs Verona from last years' final.

The game's commentary is muffled by the sound of some stupid assed song playing. It's the kind of song Peyton listens to and I don't know how the hell it found its way to Vegas's CD collection but it's starting to really annoy me.

_Whine, whine, whine, this girl she's so bright and pure, won't give me shit, won't give me the time of day._

Ugh. Screw that.

"Somebody shut that damn thing off!" I hollered to no one in particular, "They're talking about the 1-2-3 D! Shhhh! Y'all get your eyes and ears on the goddamn TV" I did my best coach Whitey impersonation and there's a smattering of snickers behind me. I smirk at myself before gulping another mouthful of beer.

_I find me funny, too Haley. Do you?_

Alright, I'm a little tipsy. Not a good way to start the long wait for Haley James to show up but this party blows. To think Vegas had been bragging about this the whole week. This used to be fun, especially since Vegas came up with this annual pre-Dan Scott Kiss Ass Bash as some way to mock our parents' yearly evening black-tie event. The whole point of this party was to get as plastered as much as possible the week before our own parents gets plastered themselves. Two years ago, that made sense. Now though this whole thing just seems sadly pathetic.

Actually, as I look around me, everyone here seems sadly pathetic in their own way. The smart ones have clearly avoided this party. And, glancing back at Brooke, this apparently includes Peyton. I'm little surprised that Peyton isn't here. Brooke always finds a way to drag Peyton to all sorts of parties and when Peyton and I used to date, well, we have to do the partying rounds. It's all part of the high school golden couple routine. The BMOC Jock and the hot, blonde cheerleader.

Don't you just love clichés?

I briefly wondered where my ex-girlfriend could be, but hey, hadn't Haley mentioned that Lucas isn't coming to the party? So three guesses where Peyton might be right now.

I try to dismiss the little voice inside my head that immediately insisted on another round of Lucas bashing. Even I am getting tired of that voice and all the Lucas Rant. And, yeah, so, okay, I had been thinking of Peyton lately but not in the 'I want to get back with her' kind of way. It has something more to do with me wanting to apologize for all the shit that I've put her through. I want us to get past being angry at each other. I want things to be okay between the two of us. I care about Peyton. No one would probably believe that, but it's the truth. She had been my first serious girlfriend, it's not like I can so easily dismiss that fact. I'm a jerk, I get that, but I'm not that _kind_ of a jerk.

I haven't gotten the chance to talk to her yet, not that I've made any effort to, but then again she has been avoiding me. I figure she's still pissed off about the whole 'Call me when you're not so PMS-ing?' thing. Not that I can blame her and what a way to end a relationship, by the way.

When we finally get to sit down and talk about 'us' or rather the 'end of us', I hope she'd hear me out and more importantly, believe me when I tell her that I do want to still be friends. Even if she does end up dating Lucas. Although, I pause, frowning at the thought, it'd be like the most awkward thing ever.

Christ, what is wrong with me? Every girl – and by this, I mean the only two girls that's been occupying my mind the past few weeks – has some connection to Lucas and not just any connection. One's the future, upcoming girlfriend and the other is the life-long best friend.

Had I somehow acquired Peyton's masochistic tendencies?

"No date tonight?" Brooke's voice slices through my thoughts. I've forgotten she's even here. Typical of Brooke, ignoring me ignoring her. It's one of her many talents. The girl is just incapable of doing the one thing I want her to do the most, which is to disappear. Knowing Broke, this is some sort of revenge; her twisted way of being a supportive friend and I'm supposed to just sit still and listen to her snide little comments. Which is fine by me since I've heard them all. And coming from Brooke Davis, it's not something to feel guilty about anyway. I just think that it's pretty convenient for Peyton to not have mention the part where she actually dumped _me._ Brooke is acting like I'm completely to blame for all the bad shit that happened to Peyton. It's mostly me, yeah, but so not the point.

I warily watch from the corner of my eyes as she motions for Routh to scoot over, plopping herself next to me, making it a point to bounce a couple of times before settling into the couch. Like a kid. Only with more boob-action.

Hey, I'm a guy. I notice these things.

"You know usually," She starts off, examining her blue-painted finger tips, "by this time you'd be _craaawwwling_ back to Peyton or hooking up with some skanky freshman slore. Now look at you, all sad and mopey."

I shake my head, turning away from her. "Leave me alone, Davis."

She lets out a small scandalize 'oooohhh', her red lips parting in a small 'O'. She leans closer to me and smiling wider, mock-whispers into my ear, "I think I know what this is about, Nate."

"You don't know shit." I hate it when she calls me Nate. Even Peyton knows enough to not call me that especially when I'm pissed off or on the verge of being pissed off. I move away from her staring hard at her perfectly made up face. I decide not to say anything anymore. Keep my mouth shut. Best thing to do whenever Brooke is around. She's not going to bait me into anything. I know all of Brooke Davis's games and she's not getting anything from out of me. Especially anything that she could happily report back to Peyton.

Brooke playfully rolls her eyes. "C'mmon Nate, I've been watching you watch that door the past, oh, I don't know half hour or so. If you're waiting for Peyton, she's not going to come. Boo-hoo." Brooke makes a sad face before smiling brilliantly up at me.

Guess I'm not the only one who's already on the way towards the land of drunkenness. "What is that?" I ask glancing at the cup she's practically cuddling.

She grins up at me in that creepy bright way of hers, eyes glittering from something that isn't happiness at all but more like rage. "Vodka with Mountain Dew. Want some?"

"No and I'm not waiting for Peyton." I tell her this as slowly and as clearly as I could.

Brooke sighs softly, twisting her mouth. "I know. I actually believe you, how sad is that?" She glances at the room, her eyes darting everywhere before turning her attention back to me, "You know what else is sad?"

I don't answer her, which I think she took as a sign that I am still somehow interested in whatever she has to say.

"I think it's just sad," Brooke continues, her lips curling up in what looks like an almost gentle, knowing sneer, "that _you_ couldn't convince Lucas's cute, little side kick, Tutor Girl, to join you for a night of Nathan Scott Debauchery."

I could feel my stomach sinking as I realize what this small talk is all about. Great. Just fucking great. This is just what I need.

"Isn't that who you're waiting for?" She flashes me another winning grin when I didn't answer her; her whole face brightening up as though she has just discovered something incredibly amazing. "Awww, Tutor Girl stood you up?"

I feel something inside me twist angrily at her mocking tone. "You leave her the hell out of this."

"Nathan Scott, are you coming to Tutor Girl's defense?" She blinks up at me, long, dark eyelashes fluttering dramatically, "I didn't know you could be kind of chivalrous and oh-so-heroic."

"Jesus, just when I think you couldn't be any more of a bitch." I tell her, sadly shaking my head. Something flickers in Brooke's eyes and I'm almost sorry for saying something so cutting. She looks slightly perturbed, her lower lips jutting out. Without Peyton around, Brooke almost looks lost. I can feel my annoyance starting to turn into pity but before I can even think about apologizing, the hard-gritting look in her eyes is back.

"You're such a jackass, Nathan." She finally says before standing up, flicking her wrist at me, as though dismissing me. I watch as she walked away, the rest of her girly-fan club, mostly sophomores, following her – one of them giving me a suggestive wink and a flying kiss, running her finger between the gaping gap of her silver blouse.

I groan out loud. I am so sick and tired of hanging out with these girls.

Where the hell is Haley?

* * *

I have yet to move from the couch. I don't care if I'm getting strange looks from everyone. The beach house has only one main entrance and it just so happen that this couch is situated directly in front of that door and I swear, I have watched half of Tree Hill High's population come in and out, in and out: an endless stream of kids of all shapes and sizes, aged fourteen to maybe even twenty six and there is still no sign of Haley James.

And if I am anywhere near poetic, I'd say that all hope had bled out from me hours ago. But since I am not the kind of guy, I am just actually, pretty fucking annoyed that practically everyone had decided to come to this party. Everyone except Haley James, that is.

"Yo, Nate, you feeling okay? You look like ass man." Tim asks as he plops himself beside me, occupying the same spot Brooke had abandoned hours ago.

What is this? I just cannot get a break from annoying people today. "Tim, get the hell away from me." I mutter darkly, giving him a tight, un-amused smile.

"Dude, what is up with you?" Tim slowly stands up, staring down at me, briefly giving me that huge, hurt poodle dog-eyes that creeps me way out (I'm just too polite to ever actually mention it to him) before shaking his head and walking away, shoulders dejectedly drooping.

"Tim, wait-" I try to call after him, but he's already lost in the crowd. I sat wordlessly for a minute before letting out a heavy sigh. Crap. Not only am I now feeling like shit about Haley not showing up, I have to add guilt for being a real jack ass. I mean, I'm used to Brooke being a bitch but I shouldn't have said anything in front of everyone and as for Tim, he was obviously just trying to be a friend.

What the hell is going on with me? I feel like I'm starting to lose track of everything. The game, my friends, my dad, my mom, Lucas, Haley, The Plan. I have to remind myself of my priorities. Lucas out of the team. Dan off my back. State Championship. All in that order. Nothing about trying to not hurt Haley or anyone's feeling in there at all. In fact, sparing her and everyone else's feelings is so far down the list, I am not even going to be bothered by it.

_Now is not the time to brick it, Scott._

It's become some sort of mantra I have to tell myself every time. And more often than not, I find myself repeating that line inside my head whenever I'm with Haley. For some reason, a small part of me, if I really allow myself to think about it, is a little disappointed for coming up with The Plan and for actually going through with it. That small part of me insists that Haley does not have to be dragged into the whole sordid mess, especially since she really do seem to care about me not getting kicked out of the team. In fact the more I think about it, the more it seems like she's tutoring me for _me_ and not for Lucas - which would be weird and therefore wrong.

I know that I've only just gotten to know her but she's a good person – great actually, I mean being Pukeface's friend and not to mention my tutor requires endless amount of patience and kindness. Come to think of it, she's actually pretty amazing. But my point is, she doesn't deserve to be treated the way I have been treating her. Granted that I haven't been an ass to her, but it's only because of the plan. I should not be an ass to her because she deserves it, because she has done nothing but support me and help me and listen to me and yeah, sometimes, she confuses the hell out of me, but… she's been pretty amazing.

But, again, not really my point.

Argh. Fuck.

To be honest, every time I come to the realization of what I'm doing, I start feeling like a complete bastard. It's a good thing that the pansy assed part of me can still be ignored, especially when Dan starts to make it a point to get into my case every time he could, which is pretty much every goddamn hour of every goddamn day. Every time we're in the same room together, he makes sure that he has some spiteful little comment about how Lucas is starting to actually play good games and how he has managed to make more points from the last game and the last game after that. I remind him that I'm getting tutored and I am not getting to get kicked out of the team any time soon, so sorry to disappoint you dad.

My dad calmly smiles at me and tells me that I better pray that my tutor gets me good grades or I just have to get used to the idea watching the game from the side-lines, bitter and completely without a future in basketball.

"Oh, you mean like yourself?"

It's been pretty shitty and I have a feeling it's going to get a lot worse.

Lucas always finds a way to screw my life over. So the guy had been lucky, give me a break. I roll my eyes. I can just see him now, nodding at Haley every time he makes basket. Can a guy look more pathetic than that? Even when I was dating Peyton, I didn't make shots for her. I make shots for _me_. They're for my stats, so that when college scouts come looking at my game, they'd know that not only am I good in paper, I am also better in court.

I've noticed Haley cheering for Lucas but when I make a basket I get nothing from her. And what the hell is up with that anyway? The rest of the crowd is going wild, standing on their feet, screaming my name like there's no tomorrow and there she is sitting so placidly, talking to that kid from Rivercourt with the mic, completely oblivious to the standing ovation that I'm receiving.

It really annoys me when she pretends that she doesn't care. I mean, it's not like I can't feel it when she's watching me and she has been watching me. So why can't she acknowledge the fact that I am actually good at what I am doing. Better than Lucas. Better than everyone else. A little clapping wouldn't hurt her.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a blonde girl stumbles into my lap, breaking my thoughts. Usually, this is the part where I shrug my shoulder and just go with the whole thing. If she's willing, then hey, I'm willing. But tonight, I just blankly stare down at her and watch as she scowls up at me for a second and then as though realizing who I am, she sidles up closer, rubbing her body against mine. She smells like strawberries and beer and cigarette. She slurs a greeting, which sounded something like, "Hey there Scotch,"

I slowly, deliberately push her off of me, keeping my neck craned, eyes searching for the crowd, any hints of earth-colored, mud brown and dirty green knitted hat or poncho or jacket or anything that is Haley-like but it's just a sea of satin red, blue, gold, silver pricey low cut dresses.

No Haley.

She is not going to show up.

It would have been nice if she had called me to let me know, but then again, it's not like a date or anything. I scowl darkly, any last bit of good mood I might have had quickly evaporating. That's it. I've had enough of this shit. I'm done waiting. I'm done for the night. I get up from my seat and wordlessly make my way towards the kitchen, shaking my head and ignoring the "What the hell's wrong with you Scotch?" question from the blonde girl I just ditched on Routh's lap.

What's wrong? What's wrong is I can't get all hung up over this. I wasn't supposed to get all hung up over Haley and the whole stupid plan.

* * *

"It's a bitchin' party dawg, I don't know what crawled up your ass and died there but you're starting to ruin it for the whole team."

I don't know how Tim does it but he found me by the kitchen, leaning against the counter, arms crossed against my chest. And since this his second attempt at being my friend - my only friend for the night (everyone wants Nathan Scott, Party Animal around but I go sulking for one night and I'm ruining it for the whole team. Wow, I feel the love) I make an effort to be a little more pleasant.

"I think I'm heading home. This party sucks." I bit out. And the only reason why I'm even here in the first place, I add silently, angrily, was so I could show Haley that she could easily fit in into this world – into _my_ world. She'd have more fun here, she didn't have to be cooped up inside her room all the time, her quiet little world that consisted of her books and studying and Lucas. She can have all these. With me. Of course, when I was thinking of this bright idea, it all made sense. I mean, this is fun, right? Compared to roof top mini golf course.

I look around me, the spacious thousand dollar, state-of-the-art kitchen filled with drunken couples making out, groping each other. At another corner, huddled together are more drunken individuals trying to stay up, holding two drinks, one in each hand, gossiping and slurring words, laughing insanely at some lame joke.

I am surrounded by a bunch of losers; I realize and almost painfully admit that I am almost exactly like them and that I would never, ever want to drag Haley into this kind of mess. Never in a million in a years. But the idea of her all alone in her bedroom or hanging out, cocooned at the café with Lucas and the rest of the Rivercourt guy, it just doesn't seem right to me at all.

"Nate?" Tim stares up at me, waiting for a response. When I don't give him any he stares long and hard at the floor, as though in deep contemplation before looking back up at me, frown lines creasing his forehead. "Dude, would you just talk to me?"

I sigh and shake my head, nodding at the general direction of the party. "It' just getting kind of tedious, you know."

Tim looks around, looking perplexed. "Tedious, right." He nods his head, "Is this about you know, your plan?"

I feel my eyes widening. I should have never told Tim about the plan. I knew he wouldn't be able to keep his big, fat mouth shut. "Would you keep it down?" I ask, glaring at him, looking around and making sure no one was eavesdropping on us. The last thing I need is the whole school buzzing about some mysterious 'plan' by yours truly. Haley had long stopped giving me suspicious glances and I am not about to do something that will make her not trust me again. Not that I think she completely trusts me now, just that she might not totally be wary of me anymore, which is exactly how I want it and I'm planning on keeping it that way.

"Sorry, dude." Tim sounds sincere enough and I shake my head with a sigh, sending him a silent warning to not say another word. Of course, this is Tim so he doesn't take the hint. Instead, he stands disturbingly closer and whispers conspiratorially, "Too bad about Haley not showing up, huh? I kinda mentioned it to Vegas and Vegas was all like, 'Who's she', so I pointed her out the other day. You know, Big V thinks she's hot. He said he'd like to borrow her sometime."

Tim giggles a little and I swear, for a brief second everything around me is tinted red. I feel my fist clenching, "Vegas can't say shit like that. Who the fuck does he think he is?"

"Hey, chill out Nate. It's all good. It's just talk you know. Harmless fun."

This is seriously pissing me off. _Borrow_ her? What the fuck does he mean by that? "Oh, I'll show Vegas harmless." I say, pushing myself off the counter.

"C'mmon dude, would you just relax," Tim is saying, trying to get me to stay put. "So Vegas likes Haley, so what?"

 _So_ _what_?

"Vegas can't like Haley." I am barely making any sense, I realize this, but I can't help myself. The words are tumbling out from my mouth before I can even stop them.

"Why not?" Tim asks in a ridiculously confused voice which infuriates me even more.

"Because," I start, words coming out in an angry hiss, "She's _my_ tutor and _I_ like her!"

I don't think I heard myself quite as clear that very moment. And then the buzzing inside my head started, drowning out everything around me. I watch as Tim's eyes slowly widened, looking at me like I have just swallowed something insane. I blink and blink.

Blink, blink, blink, blink, completely at lost for words.

"Whoa, Nate." Tim starts, half-stumbling away from me, mouth gaping wide open, "Dude, that's…that's… like, fucking huge. Are you serious? Or is that, like, part of the plan?" He frowns up at me and I find myself staring down at the bottle of vodka he was holding.

_I like her._

The words echo inside my head.

Motherfucker. I need a drink.

"Gimme that." I snatch the bottle from Tim's hand and proceeded to drink myself unconscious.

The plan had just gone from bad to ridiculously fuck up beyond belief.

* * *

I'm not exactly sure how I'm still able to stand up at all. The party has gone on for hours and yet everyone seemed to still be here. No one is going home and it's starting to become the kind of party everyone would be talking about until next year. Vegas would be proud.

Well, fuck Vegas.

I am holding my second bottle of vodka and I have just cornered Brooke by the staircase. She's all alone, without her sluts-in-waiting. She looks as drunk as I feel. I grab her arm and push her against the wall.

And this is plan C, by the way.

"I need you to get Lucas away from Haley."

"Who?" Brooke squints her eyes up at me, frowning, confused. "I didn't know Lucas is seeing some skank."

"She is not a skank!" I pause. I think I had just screamed at Brooke Davis's face and I'm too drunk to appreciate it. Dammit. "She's my tutor." I clarified as calmly as I can.

Brooke tilts her head, looking utterly plastered. She sways a little, cradling her head against her palm. "Wait, wait, Nathan, slow down." She looks up at me, her eyes huge with disbelief. "Tutor Girl is dating Lucas?"

"No she's not," I answer, shaking my head, "and don't call her that." There's a faraway look in Brooke's eyes, then after a long pause she squeals happily and if I could just find my hand, I would have placed them on my ears to protect my ear drums from massive damage.

"Nate, do you know what this means? I so got the whole love rectangle plus one theory." She pauses and frowns, "Well, sort of."

What the fuck is Brooke talking about? "Alright, you're drunk. I'll talk to you later." I start stumbling towards wherever. There goes plan C. Dammit, am I supposed to go through the whole alphabet now?

"Wait! Wait!" Brooke hooks her arm around mine and I proceed to drag her along with me. "What do you have in mind?"

I actually have nothing. I swallow hard, thinking about it. "Just keep Lucas busy for a few days. God knows he hangs around her way too much." This is the downside of drinking, I tend to say way too much and I can't seem to stop myself, "how am I supposed to do what I'm supposed to do with him hanging around her all the freaking time?" I look down at Brooke, watching as she arches up her eyebrows. Crap. Have I given the plan away?

" _Days_?"

Well, okay, I know for a fact that Brooke isn't the smartest girl but this is just ridiculous. "Surely you can keep a guy interested in you for a few days." I drawl at her, smirking.

Brooke drunkenly pouts. "I don't think I like what you're implying there, Nate and did you just call me Shirley?"

I roll my eyes and glare at her. "I don't need you to like anything, I need you to get-"

"Get Lucas out of the picture so you can get it on with Tutor Girl."

I angrily disentangle myself from her, lightly pushing her away. "That is not what is happening right here!"

"Oh, really?" Brooke sneers up at me. "This isn't about you trying to get into Tutor Girl's pants?"

"Forget it." Jesus, what is in that bottle of vodka and why did I ever thought of Brooke, of all people. I walk further into the room, looking for a place to actually breathe. I'm starting to feel a little nauseated. I need to get out of here. It's too noisy. Too crowded. And I'm too drunk. I need to go someplace and clear my fucking head. I move towards the patio, immediately jumping away in surprise when Brooke pushed herself out of the door, half stumbling out, tripping on her own ridiculously high heeled shoes.

"What do I get in return?" She asks, sounding overly eager.

"What?" The spray of cool ocean wind is not helping; I realize this as I eyed Brooke and her double. There are two Brooke Davises standing in front of me. _God help Tree Hill._

"What am I going to get in exchange for getting Lucas out of the way?" Brooke One and Two asks in complete unison.

I shake my head and watch as the two Brookes merge into one. Thank God. It's my turn to frown down at her. "I thought you like Lucas?"

"I do." Brooke admitted in an oddly soft, gentle voice.

I raise my eyebrows at her. "So? What else would you want?'

"Naaatttteeee..." She whined, leaning close, clutching at my arms.

I feel my eyes going wide as I took a huge step away from her. "Fuck, Brooke, no way."

She looks totally weirded out by my reaction, frowning and scrunching up her face in confusion. She gets the idea when I start to back away from her as she walked closer towards me. She stops in mid step and makes a face, like she's about to gag. "Oh, God, euw. Not that. Euw. I can't believe you'd even suggest that."

"I didn't!" I cried out, horrified by the very idea. Once is enough, I'll tell you that much.

She looks up at me, eyes slanted. "I want the truth." She says this solemnly, a complete three-hundred-sixty degree turn from the drunken, slurring Brooke I was just talking to minutes ago.

"The truth?" I mumble out loud, confused. What is she on about?

She nods her head in confirmation. "In exchange for keeping Luke 'busy' so you could get 'busy' with Tutor Girl."

I feel my face angrily flush at the totally baseless, unfounded, unjustified (I have a wider range of vocabulary now, all thanks to Haley) accusation. "I told you, it's not like that!" I staggered into the nearest deck chair, dropping into it and glaring up at Brooke who was standing over me, looking completely un-drunk. I groan out loud. I just completely, totally walked into this mess.

"Whatever. So, deal?" I look at her hand, dangling in the air. Rolling my eyes, I reach forward and shake it. She holds on to my hand and I raise her eyebrows at her. "So, tell me," Brooke asks, "are you in love with Tutor Girl?"

I pull my hands away, scowling at her. I hate it when she calls Haley Tutor Girl. I don't like it all when Brooke makes fun of her that way. "Her name is Haley, alright." I said, glowering up at her. "And no, I'm not in love with her."

"Not yet." She mumbles smilingly at me.

Brooke, by the way, is hugely delusional. "Whatever. Just get Lucas away from Haley. All I need is one week." I am suddenly tired and sleepy and I am barely making any sense at whatever Brooke is saying which is like the best thing that had ever happened to me tonight.

"Awfully confident aren't you? What makes you think she'd go for the likes of you?" Brooke asks her voice all sugar.

Way to dig in that claws of hers. "Goodbye Brooke." I mutter, closing my eyes and ignoring her.

"Bye, Nate." I feel her lean towards me, blowing a kiss. I could smell the vodka on her breath and I could sense the mocking laughter directed at me. It's just annoying when Brooke Davis is right. She likes it when she's right. Bitch.

* * *

I am doing something incredibly childish. I'm not proud of it but whatever. I needed to get away from the stupid party but since I've started drinking really heavily and I have no one to drive me home, I don't want to risk ramming myself into a tree, which I am most likely to do at this kind of state – hey, I learn my lessons too, you know – I've locked myself inside one of the many guest rooms, pouting and generally being a baby.

I am hoping that my earlier drunken conversation with Brooke is just a weird nightmare. I shudder at the memory of it. I take a deep breath; closing my eyes and gripping the second – or is third? – bottle of vodka that I've managed to steal downstairs. Vegas won't be missing it. But I'm sure his parents will, since I broke the glass from his dad's private stash. Ha. Let's see if Vegas'll be throwing any more of these parties any time soon.

I vaguely hear someone retching next door. I hope to God whoever is puking his or her or their guts out there is doing it on the pricey hand woven Turkish rag that Vegas had mentioned a couple of days ago. I can hear the impressive hurling. Way to go. Downstairs, Zack (or someone who sounds like Zack) is shouting curses at the TV which was still blaring the final minutes of some game. Probably Verona kicking the shit out of Oak Lake. At the distance I can hear the sound of bottles crashing against the patio, accompanied by the thumping bass from the massive speakers installed all over the house.

Welcome to Tree Hill High Party Central.

I groan out loud, pinching the bridge of my nose. I cannot believe that I just told Tim that I like Haley and then right after that, went on ahead to make a deal with the devil herself. What the hell is wrong with me?

The thing is, I do actually really, honestly like Haley James. She's everything a girl ought to be: smart, funny, fiercely loyal, kind, independent, pretty and I could go on and on about the many qualities that I like about her. The question is how exactly do I like her? In what terms, in what degree. That sort of thing. I mean, with Peyton, I saw her wearing that short denim skirt two years ago: blonde hair, murky-green eyes and long, long legs and I immediately knew that I _like_ her. Wanted her. But with Haley, it's different. I've never felt anything like this before. Never with Peyton or any other girl and I know I've been doing that a lot, comparing Haley to all the other girls, but I can't help it. She's nothing like them and everything she does goes against everything I thought I knew about girls.

There's attraction, hell yeah, but more than that, there is something else that I could not name, that I could not fathom, could not fucking solve.

 _Elusive._ That's what she is. And how fucking ironic is it that I actually learned that word from her?

Am I surprised by all this? Hell yes, I am. Just as I am surprised, come to think of it, by the fact that plan had lasted this long, which means that I had actually woken up every morning, for the past couple of weeks, around six, if not completely panicked that I'm going to be late for tutoring at least actually looking forward to spending the whole hour and a half with her. The fact that several times, I had ended up getting at the docks fifteen minutes before her should have clued me in. But, no, I had been busy watching her smile at me, her warm brown eyes lighting up.

This is all Haley's fault. I mean, sure I thought of the plan, but she's the one who's hell bent on throwing me completely off. There is just no understanding that girl.

At first I could get her to react the way I want her to but then after a few days, she seemed to have figured me out and then the table is turned. She keeps doing all these unexpected things. Like being nice to me for no apparent reason. Like last week, I remember when coach had us doing suicides every day, she had completely surprised me when she said that we can meet up later. Like, a lot later than usual.

"I thought I'd cut you some slack but if you don't want to change the schedule to eight, that's fine with me. I just thought you'd like extra hours of sleep since Luke said that you guys are going to have a pre-game practice thing whatever tomorrow."

"Coach usually just makes us do this lame drills."

"It can't be lame if it's helping you guys win. Mouth says the team had never had a winning streak this long."

And I actually found myself reluctantly agreeing to that, although I also kind of wanted to ask her just when and where and why she's talking to that odd kid who watches the games and then talks to himself. I am not jealous by the way. Just curious.

Coach Whitey asked us last Friday, before he dismissed us all for the weekend: "Boys, the defender is in your shot pocket, what do you do? Nathan?

"Drive hard, get to the basket."

"The defender sags," Coach said, walking in front of us, hands clasped in front of him. A picture of a calm, almost warm and loving grandfather. Except for the way he was shouting at us.

Tim smirks. "Pany assed, must be someone from Oak Lake." He high fives the guys next to him.

Coach turned his attention to Tim who is caught standing beside me, trying to get a fist bump. "He's daring you to shoot, what should you do Smith?"

Tim shrugs. "I pass the ball, coach. He's trying to fool me, but I know better."

Coach smiles but it does not even reach the corner of his eyes. "He lunges at the ball, slaps it away and you're embarrassed for life. Sit down before I bench you for a whole game."

Tim whines and opens his mouth to protest. I save him a game as I pulled him into his seat, glaring at him.

"Get this through your thick skulls, if the defender plays you off, you shoot. If they play tight..."

"Make him pay. Attack the hole."

"I don't remember asking you Nathan. But you're right. That's what you do." Coach walks further into the room, in deep thought. He stops in front of Lucas and his new buddy, Jake. "You have to learn how to read the opponent. But more than that, you need to be ready to react to whatever he's going to do." Coach pauses to make sure that this sinks into our heads. He starts pacing again, the silence is heavy and everyone is waiting what he'll do or say next. I gotta tell you, coach does have a good grasp for dramatic flair and he uses it to his advantage. "Everything I just said, only you're the defender what do you do, Lucas?"

"Creep into a middle distance." Lucas answered after a whole second of silence.

"Well, well. Look at that, the Scott boys are on a roll. Give the boy a toaster! And why go the middle distance?"

"Makes it more difficult to read what I'll do next. Throw the guy off."

"Y'all here that? Y'all better remember that."

I heard it. I'm remembering it now.

It's just so wonderful that Haley seems to be pulling the same stunt on me while I am stuck on my plan, still trying to figure Haley James out, nowhere near seducing her but apparently, already _liking_ her.

She's completely unreadable. There is no predicting what she's going to do or say next. To be honest, she's frustrating the hell out of me. Totally taking me out of my rhythm and ability to square up to the goal and I wish… I just wish that she'd… show up so I could, I don't know, test just how much I like her. Or want her. Or just…

I just want to be with her tonight. That's all.

I groan out loud and curse myself.

I guess that sorts of answer my question.


	10. Morning Warm Ups

**Chapter Ten:** Morning Warm Ups

I freakin' hate Mondays

Of course, it's just my luck that I'm meeting Haley today. I haven't spoken to her since that bizarre Friday night phone conversation and I have sworn on the team's winning streak – the only thing sacred enough that I could think of – that I am not going mention anything about the party.

Not a damn thing.

It's best that that I shut up about it and let things go as they always do: customary exchange of good mornings, drop a few charming lines, study, banter a little, the occasional one-sided flirting and then we'd go our separate merry ways.

For now at least.

Yeah, I'm somewhat putting the plan on hold. After a night of sleepless, serious, sober scrutinizing, I've come to the conclusion that so far, nothing has gone my way. Especially as far as the plan is concerned. I'm going to have to re-evaluate and re-asses the whole thing. This is a fucking set back, as far as fucking set-backs go, I realize that, but there is just no way that I could smoothly carry out Operation Screw Lucas. Not after everything that had happened Saturday night.

Damn Vegas and his stupid party.

Finally, I have someone else to blame other than myself.

So anyway, here's the thing: when you're drunk and you're wallowing on the insaneness of it all, you start to realize certain things. Things you're bound to forget the morning you wake up at someone else's patio, the sound of waves crashing against the shore, cruelly reverberating inside your skull. Like a jackhammer on crack, going absolutely nuts inside your brain, or in this case, my brain. But that's totally irrelevant, my point is, I'm not the kind of guy who'd forget things just because I happen to successfully down two bottles of vodka.

A lot. But still not enough to invoke drunken, selective amnesia - which would be awesome by the way, considering the fact that had I told Tim, of all people, that I like Haley James and not to mention that little conversation I had with Brooke Davis.

God knows I have to do something about that soon. I can't believe I practically handed out the ammo for Brooke Davis to shoot me down.

I never learn.

I should have never sought her out when I was that drunk. First thing I'm going to do the moment I step inside the school is look for her and pray to God that she'd been smashed enough to not remember anything from Saturday night's party. And on top of that, I have to make sure that Tim keeps his mouth shut and Vegas stays a hundred feet away from Haley.

It's definitely going to be a long, long day ahead.

I guess I've been too deep in my thoughts, wasn't looking to where I was going, but I wasn't surprised anymore when I realized that I had bumped into someone and that someone turned out to be Haley James. She has a strange way of popping up whenever I start thinking about her.

I'm being punished. I know that now.

She looks up at me startled, her eyes growing wide. "Nathan!" She exclaims as I catch her elbow, gently tugging her towards me.

My hand feels the bracelet before my eyes sees it and I smirk at this. I don't know why exactly, but seeing that stringed purple, pink, yellow and green plastic beads around her delicate wrist makes me feel all sorts of happy.

It's odd to kind of consider her bracelet as something significant. I mean, it's the kind of thing fifth graders would offer as a promise bracelet or something equally girly to their playground sweethearts and I can't help but think that whatever this _thing_ with Haley James is, it would be so much simpler if that had been the case. All I need to do now is pull Haley's hair, run screaming around so she could chase after me and then I'd stop, grab her by the waist, pull her against me - real tight - and kiss her until we're both breathless.

No. _Wait_. Dammit. How the hell did the playground scenario end up with us making out behind giant neon-green slides? I mentally roll my eyes and shake my head. Stupid, fucking hormones.

I'm suddenly distracted from the daydream-slash-vision as I feel her arm lightly brushing against mine as she gently disentangles herself from me and I swear, we both jumped apart – it's not just me, it's her too.

I quickly drop her hand, like _she_ had just burned _me_ and it's only because she's looking at me like _I_ had burned _her_.

"Wow, you're, like really early." Haley mumbles, tilting her head a little to look at me before looking off into the distance as though trying to figure out something. She glances back at me, her brown eyes suddenly looking a shade lighter, almost golden.

Swallowing hard, I shove both my hands back into my pockets. Safe. _Safer_. Whatever. "Can say the same thing to you, James."

She scoffs softly, rubbing her nose in that totally cute way of hers. "I'm always early." And then seeing my raised eyebrows, she rolls her eyes. "Except for that one time and you're obviously never going to make me forget about it either."

"Well, I'm thinking you're sill half asleep. You better watch where you're going," I tease her, easing back into more familiar grounds. "We both know you're prone to falling flat on your-" I stop myself just in time to watch her arch her eyebrows up, daring me to continue. "Just be careful," I hastily amend.

"So, ugh," Haley starts off, shifting her weight from foot to foot. I watch her as she clasps her hands in front of her, dropping her head, attempting to hide the faint blush slowly blooming on her cheeks

Her being somewhat nervous is also making me somewhat nervous. Is it possible that I'm still slightly drunk? Because I can suddenly feel my hands going cold and kind of clammy. Frowning a little, I wonder how it is possible for so many things to change in a little over than three weeks. I remember the first time I asked Tim about Haley, how he had asked if I was planning on slumming with her and how I thought that had been an almost funny joke. How did things start off with _that_ and ended with _this_ – me getting nervous over her being nervous?

"…was your weekend?" I hear the end of her question and I blink down at her. I give Haley a long searching look and she blinks up at me, the expression on her face completely unreadable. Are we suddenly back to small polite talks? I feel a slight pang of disappointment but I quickly brush it aside. Doesn't really matter, right? I mean, since there's no plan and all.

"My weekend?"

Well, let's see, I was blissfully passed out the whole of Sunday, trying to mentally slice out the more cringe-inducing memories of the party from my brain. No such luck. And, oh, yeah, because my day would not be complete without my dad being a total ass, he barged in my room, mid-afternoon, demanding that I get up, work out and do some drills, adding, in his loving, fatherly way: " _What did I tell you about letting your stupid high school parties distract you from basketball? You keep this up Nathan, you're going to end up like some sloppy, over-weight nobody, just like your uncle Boozy_."

The nifty little dig at Uncle Keith isn't a new one. I've heard it all before, in fact, I'll let you in on a little Scott Family Secret: my dad makes it a hobby to put Uncle Keith down. Once a week, minimum. Twice a day, max. And I'm thinking, well, this is _exactly_ why Lucas and I would never ever get along in the first place. My dad just isn't a fan of the One Big Happy Family concept. As you can imagine. But where was I? Oh, right, my dad being an ass. Well, guess what, Haley, I have good news. I defiantly waved Dan away and stayed in bed. Just like that. It's amazing just how much I've been going against my dad lately. Don't blink, Lucas and I just might end up being the best 'hey-bro-what's-up-bro-take-care-bro' buds ever and wouldn't you just like that? Anyway, Saturday sucked ass, Sunday was lame.

Haley is starting expectantly up at me, a strange expression flitting across her face. For a brief moment, I'm horrified at the thought that I might have actually opened my mouth and told her all those things. Not that I'm compelled to. Well, maybe a little, but still, it just wouldn't do any of us any good if I start spilling my guts to her. I just don't do that. I refuse to.

Peyton once told me that my problem wasn't me being a first class jackass, it was me refusing to put down my walls. I'm supposed to talk feelings and stuff like that. But why bother? Talking it out never did anyone any good. All it does is make you vulnerable. No one wants to feel that way. Most certainly, most especially me.

"And the party?" Haley ventures, her voice low, tentative.

I try not to wince. "It was pretty…" Horrible. I'm looking for something worse than horrible. _Atrocious_? But no, that was the word Brooke had used once to describe Tim's haircut and Peyton's feet. Worse than atrocious. Dammit. I can't find one. And even if I did, I'd have to explain why and I would have to say that it's because she didn't show up and had not, in fact, bothered to call me to let me know that she wasn't coming. Not that I felt like she stood me up because it wasn't like a date or anything like that. "It was awesome." I finally, vaguely answer.

"Sounds great."

Haley doesn't sound genuinely enthusiastic, though. Bending my knees a little, I peer down at her face. Her eyes meet mine and I know it can't be, it's not possible, but there it is, I can feel that stupid butterfly-fluttery feeling at the pit of my stomach. I swallow hard as Haley looks at me intently, some nameless emotion shifting behind her eyes.

"Haley," I start, not entirely sure what I'm going to tell her but before I can even get another word out, she quickly averts her face, sighing softly.

"Well, should we get started?" Haley asks, placing her bag on top of the table and digging for her books.

I straighten up a little, wondering just what the hell happened there.

First she gives me _that_ look and then she pulls back like I've done something to make her change her mind. I hadn't done anything. If I did, she wouldn't still be standing in front of me staring at her notes like she had never seen them before. No, no. If I had acted on instincts, I'd have her pinned against that table and… dammit. I shake my head, lick my lips, glance at her and then at my watch, "I thought tutoring officially starts at seven?"

Haley sits down, raises her eyebrows at me in a silent question. This expression at least, I can easily read. It's a universal female expression. It's the highly befuddled: _So_? Which means that they know exactly what you're trying to say but they're pretending that they don't. _Girls_.

" _So_ , we still have, what, fifteen minutes of official non-tutoring time." I answer, shrugging my shoulders and smiling slowly down at her.

She looks up at me, her corner lips twisting up in the smallest of smiles. "An eager student, you are definitely not."

I raise my eyebrows, plopping myself across from her, my knees ever so briefly grazing hers. "Oh, you know I'm always eager." I give her a mischievous smirk and a slightly suggestive look. Now this is more like it. None of that angst-ridden, confused crap. This is better. Flirting. Or at least trying to flirt with Haley.

"Why do I have a feeling that's not as innocent as it sounds?" She answers back in a challenging voice.

"With me, it's never innocent." I wink at her and got rewarded by the sight of her cheeks turning rosy red.

She slants her eyes at me, in that totally threatening, totally adorable way of hers. "You never stop trying to be charming, do you? Or is it like ingrained to your genes."

My ears perk up at that. "So, you think that I'm charming."

Haley glances up at me, this time the smile on her face staying longer than five seconds. "You have your moments." She mutters, rolling her eyes, consciously pushing an errant lock of hair out of her face.

I can feel my eyebrows rising. "Really?"

"Now is not one of them." She isn't looking up at me; instead, she seems to be overly concentrating on the practice tests laid out before her.

"Well, that can be arranged. How many moments do you want?" I asked grinning brighter. Okay, maybe I don't hate Mondays as much. Just as long I get to have conversations like this with Haley James.

"Nathan, stop it." Haley says, pouting up at me. "We should really be studying now." She shakes her head, biting her lips. She has a fascinating way of biting her lips. Whenever I watch her do it, it's always in slow motion: her teeth gently grazing her lower lips, slightly digging into the flesh, before slowly pulling back…

 _Jesus_.

It's the docks, the early morning light, the scent of freshly cut grass; they're all conspiring to make Haley look hot.

At seven in the morning.

Something is definitely wrong there.

I have to make her change the time of tutoring. I obviously can't function properly at seven in the morning. I can't be subjecting myself to this kind of torture. It's fun but not fun _-fun_. I swallow hard as I slowly sat down across from her, mirroring her pout. The last time I asked her if we can switch from AM to PM she hadn't really been so amenable to it.

Okay, so I might have suggested that she can tutor me in my bedroom and yeah, that was really stupid of me, but I was just joking. Well sort of. I mean, lately, whenever I start picturing her tutoring me, it always ends up in my bedroom - with her not tutoring me at all.

In fact what we're doing does not even come close to tutoring. And have I mentioned that this particular mental picture – no actually, mental-movie, has been occurring a little more often than normal? And that it always ends with us snuggling under the covers. I mean, jeez, _snuggling_? Does that even sound like me? Which is why it makes it even more important now that I put some sort of normalcy back to this tutoring business.

I know that Haley is hell bent on getting my grades up. She's relentless and she said that tutoring me after school, like say nine or ten in the evening instead of seven in the morning is completely out of the question.

"Everything has to be under my terms and conditions or I am not tutoring you at all!"

When Haley James makes statements like that, I tend to listen and really keep it in mind. She drives a hard bargain. But no one has ever said 'No' to me before. I don't give up that easily as well and for a whole week, I brought out the big guns: I was extra charming, extra nice, and even extra polite but still, she wouldn't budge. It was no time for pride. I went to pouting and begging and even tried to bribe her with daily rides to school (which she flat-out turned down, what's wrong with my car? She rides on Lucas's wreck of a truck) and coffee and my mother's home baked cookies (which she ate and was thankful for) but still, we continued to meet at the docks, seven in the morning sharp.

Honestly, I like it that she can keep her word like that but this set up seriously has to change.

It's time to try once more. And, I just happen to have the perfect excuse. "Hey, Haley," She makes a small sound of reply but doesn't look up at me. I went on ahead, "We have a game Thursday night against Bear Creek and I'm under strict orders from Dan to not mess up. His Kiss Ass Jamboree is Saturday night and no one wants to party with a bunch of losers and I was-"

This gets her whole attention and have I mentioned just how much I enjoy it when I have all of her attention? She looks up at me, frowning. "You guys are not going to lose to Bear Creek Warlords."

" _Warriors_." I correct her, a little surprised but more than happy to know that she's confident about our game.

She rolls her eyes. "Whatever. Mouth says that Bear Creek guys dribbles too much and mostly just in one spot so apparently, they're screwed." I think my eyebrows shot up so high, Haley actually giggled. "What, I can't know things about basketball?" She asks in a mocking tone. "Besides, you're forgetting who I hang out with."

I never forget, I mentally answer back. "I didn't say that. In fact," I lean forward, completely forgetting about the whole changing of schedule thing. "I like it that you know things about basketball." Next to having all of her attention, I love it best when I make her blush. "So tell me, players dribble a lot, what makes you say that they're screwed."

" _I_ didn't say they were screwed. Mouth did. He said if players dribble too much, the other team have time to get into defensive positions, get ready to stop the drive," she scrunches up her nose, as though trying to remember something.

I shake my head, chuckling a little. Haley James, always so full of surprises. "And?"

"And apparently too much dribbling equals ineffective penetrating."

Jesus freaking Christ, hearing her talk about basketball, even though she's only repeating whatever it was that Mouth said – I'm gonna remember that kid's name now – is so fucking hot. I might have sat there for a complete second, my jaws hanging open. I hope I'm not panting or anything, but Christ Almighty. "Would you like to repeat that?" I asked her a little hoarsely.

Haley is still busy writing something, she doesn't spare me a second glance. "Yeah, laugh all you want Scott, just 'cause I don't understand the quadrilateral defense, doesn't mean I'm completely clueless."

"I'm not laughing and it's ugh, triangle defense, actually." I tell her in a low, solemn voice. And seriously, it's not helping that she's fiddling with her pen because right now, all I could think about is how it would be like to have her soft, smooth, dainty, little hands touch me everywhere and by everywhere, I mean, every-fucking-where

As though reading my thought, Haley suddenly looks up. "Anyway, you were going to tell me something?"

I watch her mouth move slowly. She's got a nice mouth. I've noticed that before. I'm noticing it again.

"Nathan, you're staring."

I blink at her, frowning at the slightly reprimanding tone of her voice. "What?"

"Nathan, are you alright?" Haley asks looking genuinely concerned.

I quickly shake my head and lean back, trying to appear cool and calm and collected. Get a grip, Scott. It's one thing lusting over her; it's a whole lotta different thing if she actually finds out. "I'm fine." I tell her with a shrug.

"Are you sure?" Haley asks, frowning. She leans forward, closer. "You look kind of pale."

"Relax, James, I'm okay." Good, stay with the 'James'. Keep focus. Change of schedule. Ask her. "And yeah, ugh, about my dad, he said I need to get ready for the game, have an additional two hours of basketball drills every morning."

Haley scowls at this. "Seriously, Nathan, isn't your dad supposed to know about basketball and team standings and all that? I mean you guys are undefeated, what's his problem?"

I sigh. Exactly what I had been trying to tell my dad. Of course, it's not like Dan would ever actually listen to me. He seems to have completely lost his grasp on what the game is all about. The first time we had an out of town game, Dad had sat down with me to talk strategy. He mentioned that Lucas would be all jittery and nervous playing outside the comforts of Tree Hill and its home court advantage. It was the perfect opportunity to show Whitey that Lucas does not have what it takes to be on the team and that I should do everything that I can to make it worst for Lucas. Which makes absolutely no sense at all since he's basically telling me to sabotage Lucas's game without sacrificing our winning streak.

How the hell am I supposed to that? When my dad gets like that, it really makes me think about the lengths he'd do just to get what he wants.

"He wants the team keep on winning and I gotta be in shape to be able to do that."

Haley arches her eyebrows but the expression on her face is different, something I hadn't seen before. She looks up at my face and then slowly lets her eye travel downwards. After a few minutes of scrutinizing me, she leans back, crosses her arms against her chest, imitating me. "Well, you look like you're in shape, Scott."

I give her a wolfish grin. "I know I look _fine_ , James but thanks for checking me out."

Haley merely rolls her eyes at me.

Chuckling lightly, I finally give in to the temptation and gently brushed my hands over hers. "So, c'mmon, Haley, how about it? I have to wake up for an extra two hours because my dad can't have me slacking off my morning workout and Dan's been busting my ass ever since Lucas joined the team."

"Well, it's not Lucas's fault." She mutters softly and I feel my face twisting up in a frown. I don't know if she intended it for me to hear but I certainly didn't like the tone of her voice.

I'm about to tell her just that when she, completely out of nowhere, totally unprovoked, blows off a strand of hair away from her face and freakin' hell, forget Lucas and my dad and the stupid basketball game on Thursday. I've just proven how much of a distraction Haley James could be. Now, inside my head, I've officially replaced her hands with her mouth.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I cannot be getting a hard on at seven in the morning, at the docks, arguing with my tutor. That is just not possible.

Haley shakes her head, drops the pen, leans forwards and looks at me straight in the eye. Her eyes had turned darker. Less hazel, more like chocolates. I suddenly feel my mouth watering.

Dammit. It _is_ possible. I try not to squirm so much.

"Nathan, I can't okay."

Suddenly, it's my turn to scowl at her. "It's only for a week. Then we can change back the schedule to seven. Six thirty if you really want to punish me." The more I'm thinking about this, the more it's actually making sense. I need to somehow distance myself from her, concentrate on the game and maybe then I can still possibly, hopefully salvage the tattered remains of The Plan.

If I could just get myself away from Haley James, just for a week, then I might be able to come up with something that would actually work. I mean, this liking Haley thing had been so sudden it blasted a hole right through what was supposed to be a guilt-free plan. Besides this would at the very least get my dad off my back. He's been pretty vocal on how I distracted I've been this past couple of weeks and I'm mostly certain that Haley James has a lot to do with that.

"Nathan, I'm sorry but this is my only free schedule, alright."

It's a lie. I know it. She's never good lying, like the time she denied that she was staring at me and I so totally caught her. She would not meet my eyes then and her cheeks were bright pink, her lips caught between her teeth.

Oh, yeah, Haley James is definitely not telling me truth and I know this is going to sound incredibly hypocritical of me but I don't care. I don't like it that Haley is lying to me. I don't like at all. For some strange reason, this really sets me off. And more than that, I have a good idea why she's tutoring me at this ungodly hour. It's been the reason from the very start and I know it's petty but dammit, why does everything have to be about the bastard son of a bitch.

"No it's not." I tell Haley, crossing my arms and scowling darkly at her. "The only reason you're making me wake up at six in the morning is because you don't want Lucas to find out that you're tutoring me. Well, I'm not your dirty little secret anymore, Lucas knows so I don't see any reason why we still have to meet up this early." As soon as the words 'dirty little secret' went flying out of my mouth, I knew I've said the wrong thing and for the record, I am chalking it all up to sexual frustration.

It has just never been my strong suit, thinking before opening my mouth. I tend to say the first thing that comes to me and the funny thing is, most of the time, I don't even mean them at all. If she punches me, I have to remember not to duck, besides the fact that I deserve it, maybe she'd forgive me if I do sport a black eye just to satisfy her curiosity.

I watch as Haley's eyes flashes, going from warm to totally arctic. And it just about killed me right there. I don't like the look she's giving me. It's the disappointed 'I should have known' look. I rather that she knocks me unconscious than have her look at me like that.

"Haley," I quietly start off, "I didn't mean it that way. I just…"

Haley sighs, shakes her head and says, "Fine, then you can go look for another tutor,"

I sit there stunned speechless, feeling my eyes go wide. New _what_? Did she just said _tutor?_

" _Whoa._ Wait a second-" I want to take it all back and tell her that it's okay. In fact, maybe she'd like to tutor me at six in the morning. I can certainly get up three hours earlier but the words are stuck in my mouth.

"I am telling you Nathan, this is my only free schedule. And you know what, you're right," Haley continues, her face getting redder by the second and it's not the gentle blush that I like so much, but an angry rush of red, "I can't and won't tutor you in the afternoon or in the evening because that's about the only time Lucas and I ever have the time to talk or spend some time together. And I know you don't want to hear this but I kind of miss my best friend and I'm just about done playing this stupid tug of war game." Haley huffs and puffs a little before quietly settling down on her chair, all the fight gone from her body. She wordlessly pushes the practice test towards me, her bracelet catching my eyes. "Answer that."

"Haley, I…"

Haley lifts her head to look me in the eye and I feel myself wincing at how tired she suddenly looked. "I'm sorry Nathan, just answer that, please." And then she refused to even look or talk to me.

We spent the remaining hour in complete, utter silence.

This is bad. Real bad.

And just when I think it couldn't get any worst, when it was time for us to leave, she simply got up, took my practice test and walked away without even saying goodbye. I stood up, called her name in that pathetic, no-wait-don't-go voice that I just hate and never, ever use but she didn't even look back. She just kept on walking.

I sigh and heavily sit back down.

Well, this sucks. Today is only Monday and if this was how it's going to be for the rest of the week before she hands me over to a new tutor - and I'm sure she'd find one for me, she's not about to let my grades slip - then I am so screwed.

I so freakin' hate Mondays.


	11. Pick and Roll

**Chapter Eleven:** Pick and Roll

Alright, fine, in basketball, pick and roll means nothing like: Pick your fight with Haley James and know when to just roll over and admit defeat. Whatever. Forget basketball. I seriously I cannot think about anything right now except for the fact that Haley is finally talking to me - the only time she has since yesterday (we spent the whole morning by the docks in excruciating silence) – to let me know that she found a new tutor that works with my schedule.

"Unbelievable." I mutter darkly, staring at the ceiling, shaking my head.

Damn this girl. She's that efficient. Not to mention seriously pissed at me. I can see it now, playing inside my head: Monday morning, Haley storming into the Tutor Center, turning it upside down, probably bullying and threatening a few people just so she could find a replacement this quick. Her hair would be all in a sexy mess, cheeks still bright pink, lips angrily pursed, the morning light illuminating her small, delicate frame. I tilt my head a little at the mental snap shot. I actually wouldn't have mind seeing that.

"Nathan, are you listening?" Haley snaps at me, her brown eyes alight with some degree of irritation.

I give her a blank look. She quickly opens her mouth and knowing that she's probably going to berate me for not paying attention, I grab her hand and pull her in to the next empty class room, locking the door behind me.

"What are you doing?" She asks in a voice ringing with the slightest hint of alarm. She makes a move to reach behind me but I'm quicker. Basketball reflexes. Check that. Amazing, star basketball reflexes. I grab her hand, my hands closing around her wrist and I immediately feel the absence of her bracelet. I wince a little at this. No bracelet. Definitely not a good sign.

Haley pulls away a little and I slowly shake my head no, a silent warning of sorts. I've got her now and I'm not letting her get away so easily. I tug back, gently sending her crashing back into me. I hear her sharp intake of breath and I'm almost tempted to echo her.

"You keep your hand to yourself, Scott." Haley hisses out, her brown eyes flashing.

"Or what?" I asked, challenging her.

"Or I'll… I'll… I'll set them on fire." She threatens in a serious voice even though I'm fairly certain she isn't exactly the type to light up paw-y hands. Bite them maybe. But then again I should not be thinking about her biting my hands or any part of my body for that matter. Really. Not right now, at least.

"That's not very nice, James." I tell her, leaning down close as I finally let her go. She snatches her hand away, glaring up at me. I stand firmly in front of her, blocking the door, towering over her but Haley barely flinches. In fact, she does not look anywhere near impressed. At all. She just gives me this half-challenging, half-amused look, arching her eyebrows in question.

"I just want to talk to you." I finally tell her.

"In case you missed it Nathan, we were already talking."

Sharp tongue on that pouty little mouth of hers. I like. And is there actually anything that I don't like about Haley James?

Oh. Right. Her best friend.

"Well, I want to talk to you in private." I could already feel the knowing, lingering stares directed at us and I'm not having any of that. Besides, the last thing Haley would want, I'm guessing, is to have her named whispered around, being linked to the arrogant pompous jack ass, none other than, yours truly.

She sends me a scornful glare that proves my theory.

"Would you just stay still and listen?"

I watch as Haley's face scrunches up, looking totally exasperated. Good. Now I'm frustrating her. Its high time tables are finally turned. I smirk inside my head. I'm not stupid enough to actually, physically start smirking now. Maybe later, when I rehash this whole conversation inside my head, since that has been all that I've been doing lately. Rehashing every single conversation I've ever had with Haley James.

"I don't think it's fair that you're passing me around to some other tutor just 'cause we had a disagreement. I don't know about you, but that doesn't sound very mature to me."

Haley lets out a strangled sound of utter disbelief and okay, I probably should not have thrown the M-word into the argument because I am certainly no role model for maturity. I pause to run my hand against my hair, letting out a huge sigh. This is escalating into something that has to be quickly dealt with. I have to make things right or else any connection I might have with Haley would be severely cut off.

There is just no way she'll even talk to me once she stops being my tutor. I mean, if yesterday was a preview of sorts, then I'm beyond screwed because I had just spent the whole of day practically following her around school.

I know, me, Nathan Scott, following Haley James around like some love sick puppy. It's just fucking ridiculous.

I had been trying to apologize but every time I got anywhere near her, she'd look at me coldly and I just lose it. I'd end up jamming my fists inside my jeans, slowly backing away. How's that for even more ridiculous? And do I stop at that? No. Of course not. I just kept on waiting for her: by the tutor center, at the hallways, at the cafeteria, even at the parking lot, always on the verge of talking to her but backing out at the very last second.

I seriously I don't know why she's making such a big deal out of this when we could just easily meet half way and agree that I am wrong and she's right and that I would happily stick to tutoring sessions at seven in the morning.

The only good thing that happened in the last two days was that I've finally been able to talk to Brooke. It's been a little hard getting her alone and away from Peyton. The two had been more than usually inseparable this week and it's probably because of the upcoming annual Kiss Dan's Ass Party Planning: dress shopping, shoes and make up hunting, that sort of stuff. I know enough since I've suffered through two years of that. Anyway, I've seen Brooke giving me and Peyton strange looks that spells nothing but trouble and I took it as a perfect excuse to talk to her. I know she's up to something but when I confronted her about it, she acted like she didn't know what the hell I was talking about.

And as far as I can tell, Brooke appears to have also completely forgotten about the last drunken discussion we had. Not really that farfetched since this is Brooke Davis after all, girl is on the fast track to becoming a permanent feature on Drunken High School Girls Gone Wild.

So much for making any sort of deal with her by the way. Although, I am at least thankful that there would no meddling from her part. I absolutely don't want to have Brooke poking her nose in any of my businesses. And now that I've taken care of Davis, I gotta do something about Haley. The girl is just too damn stubborn and I've had enough of trying to be a nice guy and respecting her wishes that I leave her alone.

"Not gonna happen, James." I tell her, crossing my arms against my chest, fiercely looking down at her. She looks right back up at me, her brown eyes looking a lot darker than usual.

Oh, yeah, this is going to be real good. I can already feel it.

"Excuse me?"

"You can't just get rid me because of what I said yesterday. It's not right and you know it."

She gives me an odd, startled look and then, her face softening, she slowly starts shaking her head. "Nathan I am not getting rid of you. I'm trying to help you."

Haley then proceeds to tell me who the new tutor is supposed to be and I tried to listen patiently but I could feel myself scowling more and more as she enumerated all the many sterling credentials. The fact that this new tutor is, number one, a guy who happens to be complete, total Math Olympian, Star Trek t-shirt wearing dork seems more like a punishment of sorts.

"How is that helping me?" I ask stepping up closer. She doesn't back down. Something tells me Haley James never backs down once she sets her mind into something. Not exactly a very helpful realization right now but something I definitely find admirable, not to mention hot.

"You said that you needed someone who can tutor in the afternoon and I found someone who can. What is your problem, Nathan?"

By this time, Haley has also stepped forward and I can feel her body brushing up against mine. This is seriously not the right time to be arguing with her, because having her this close is fogging up my brain. Swallowing hard, refusing to back down as well, I take another step forward. I am so close to her right now, I can feel the gentle swell of her breast against my chest.

Christ, my heart is going to fucking explode any minute now.

"My problem is you, passing me along to that geek," Haley's eyes slants dangerously at this, I quickly try to make amends, "nerd," and now she's positively scowling up at me. Geez. "Guy," I sputter out, rolling my eyes. I pause to take a deep breath, staring down at her. "I think you're being too rash about this whole thing."

"And I think you're," She quickly stabs her finger against my chest for emphasis, "being plenty immature." Haley angrily stares up at me for a whole second before her eyes slowly widens as though she had just realized how dangerously close we were. And that she had just poked me in the chest. I watch as she quickly steps away, a good few feet of distance from me. She throws me another glance-slash-glare, crossing her arms, almost protectively, against her chest.

I frown a little. Is she trembling? She looks like it. I take a step forward and she immediately backs away and then in her true Haley-James-way, she says something that completely stumps the hell out of me. She apologizes.

"Look, Nathan I'm sorry I over reacted the other day."

It's my turn to take a small step back, frowning, suddenly confused. This is like a fucking little dance. Two steps forward, one step back and around and around we go. I just hate this. Why can't things ever be simple when it comes to Haley? I was gearing up for, at the very least an argument, maybe some screaming, 'cause I'm used to that and I know I can always win my way out from that sort of thing. I've had a lot of practice with Peyton and my parents and with Whitey, but not this.

I didn't want her to be sorry for something that was entirely my fault. "You didn't over-react. I shouldn't… I shouldn't have said anything about Lucas."

Haley looks at me regretfully, nodding her head, twisting her mouth a little. "Yeah, you shouldn't have. But that's not just it, I mean, you have basketball to worry about it and it's totally not fair that I didn't consider your schedule."

"But Haley-"

"Look, I'd still tutor you until this week. You have that big history exam, right? So we'll get through that and then after…" Haley trails off, chewing at her bottom lips. "I just… I gotta go Nathan." She mumbles softly before walking past me, leaving me alone inside the room.

I let out sigh, lazily turning around, blinking at the closed door, clenching and unclenching my fists. This is so not how I planned to start my day.

* * *

The midrange pull-up jumper is a lost art and it's completely in character for Lucas to be actually good at it. Okay, fine, it's perhaps the toughest shot to stop in all of basketball and it's just typical of Lucas to be a real show off.

He's good at three's too. He should stick with that.

I am so sick and tired of hearing how Lucas managed to pull another midrange pull-up and how no one has managed to block him. In fact, I am just tired of Lucas Scott. Period.

I guess this is the right time to mention the fact that practice sucked ass. My jump shots kept losing its arc, turning totally flat and Coach Whitey had to scream at me to lift a little bit. Like I didn't already know that I wasn't jumping high enough. And like having screwy jump shots was not enough, for the first time in years I fucking threw an air ball.

Everyone inside the gym went stock-still as they watched the ball helplessly roll out of the court, getting lost somewhere beneath the bleachers.

There goes Nathan Scott's air ball. No one is gonna want to touch that ball now.

Jesus, even the team manager looked at me like I was a complete stranger. The worst part was Lucas giving me that strange look followed by an almost sympathetic nod of his head. I so do not need his sympathy. What makes him think that I'd feel any better with his curt little, "It's okay, don't worry about it" nods of his?

And then everything just went from bad to worst.

"Time to see who's been listenin' and who's been busy gawkin' at them cheerleaders." Coach yells over the team. "White and Blue," He announces, pointing at me and then slowly dragging his finger all across the team line up before stopping directly at Lucas, "The Scott boys for the Blue team. Join them why don't you, Jagielski, Smith and Roth."

I had to be captain of course and so what if I hadn't been giving the ball to Lucas? I'm sure the rest of the team are just about as tired as I am watching Lucas do all those stupid midrange pull ups. Of course, Coach didn't think that way.

"Who's open Nathan?"

I didn't answer, just stared hard at the floor breathing heavily.

"Nathan, who's open?"

"Lucas." I finally grounded out. I sounded like I swallowed a mouthful of gravel or something bitter and foul tasting.

"Then pass him the fuckin' ball, man." Jake muttered darkly from behind me.

I had to keep myself from turning around and busting open Jake's mouth. Or nose. Really, I don't care which. Coach was still looking at me, his anger evident with the way his face had slowly turned the color death. Red-faced coach means you're getting kicked out of practice – not entirely a bad thing, given the situation – but a chalk, paper-white faced coach means I'm just about an inch away from getting benched for the next game.

"Let's switch it up, coach." Tim suggested nervously.

Coach turned around to stare at Tim who slowly gulped down, giving Coach his wide puppy-dog-eyed look. It took a half a second later to have the color rushing back on Coach's face. He beamed at Tim. "Alright. Lucas, you play captain. Nathan, you follow Lucas's lead. Everyone back on court and I want to see some of them power dribbling y'all've been braggin' about."

Tim looking somewhere between horrified and lost jogged over next to me to apologize but I brushed him off. I've had enough shit to deal with; I just want practice to be over and done with.

And oh, yeah, by the way, just to rub it in, Lucas made extravagant passes over to me, letting me shoot every time I was open. Now, I'm getting charity from the bastard. Christ, I am about to seriously fuck up his face.

When the team was finally dismissed I hang back to do some light foot work, practicing on my jump shots. I don't know what had changed over the course of one day, but suddenly, I can't get the freaking ball in.

My dad is going to have a field day when he finds about the air ball today. And I'm telling you, he will find out about it. Gotta be ready for an entire stretch of five-hour jump shot drills when I came home. Better start now.

It took the guys some time to get out of the locker and when they did, they all just walked away, muttering their quick good byes. Jagielski was quick about getting out of the gym. I snort out loud, shaking my head. He shoots his mouth off the next time it's not going to be pretty.

Finally deciding that I've had enough, I trudge back inside the locker room and it's just my wonderful luck that Lucas is still inside. How long does it take for the guy to tie up his shoelaces and go? Rubbing my face, I grimly dropped my bag on the floor, the sound echoing inside.

Lucas swings his head, his face souring as soon as he sees me. It takes him another second to give me the usual squinty eyed glare.

"What?" I ask him, jerking my head up. A silent challenge.

Lucas clenches his jaw, shakes his head before wordlessly continuing with tying his shoelaces. I can feel the brewing tension in the air. It's obvious that Lucas is seriously pissed but more than that, that he has something to say. At the corner of my eyes, I watch as he starts grabbing his bag, angrily stuffing his books inside, his cheeks puffing out like he's trying to hold in the words. He looks like a petulant little child. Well, I'm not about to start any form of conversation with him and if he wants to suffer in silence, then he can be my fuckin' guest.

We both continue furiously shuffling through our stuff, waiting and just when I think that Lucas would finally give up and leave, he lets out a loud snort before throwing his bag at the floor, turning to glare at me. "I don't know what you did to Haley but I swear, Nathan-"

The moment he mentions Haley's name, I feel my blood start to rise. "I didn't do anything to her." I tell him, yanking my locker open, looking blankly inside.

"Why do I find that hard to believe?" Lucas continues, "I should have known something like this would happen."

Alright that's it. I slam my locker shut and walk towards Lucas. "You know what, yeah, I was a jackass. Congratulations, you're right yet again." I start applauding loudly.

Lucas jumps up from his seat, taking a step towards me. "You just never being stop being a dick."

"And you're always butting in on things that you have nothing to do with."

Lucas's eyes angrily widen. "Haley's my…"

"Best friend, yeah, I already know that." I said, cutting him off. "But thanks for the news flash."

Lucas looks at me, that infuriating look that always makes me feel like he knows something that I don't. I want to wipe that stupid look off his face with the soles of my shoes. "You just can't do anything right, can you Nathan?"

I feel my eyes narrowing. If that isn't an open invitation from Lucas to have my fist on his face, then I don't know what else says 'Punch me now' so effectively. "I'd shut up now if I were you."

Lucas rolls his eyes, throwing his hand in the air. "Why do I even bother?"

"Then don't."

He turns his attention back to me, eyes glittering like ice blue blades. "Because I don't like seeing Haley getting hurt. I don't want her feeling bad over something as..." Lucas pauses, looks at me coldly, before continuing in disdainful voice, "something like this."

I could hear the unspoken words: Something as stupid as this, as unworthy as you.

I glare at Lucas. I am seriously beyond pissed now. "And what about you? It's not like you've been making Haley exceptionally happy."

Lucas looks at me incredulously. "What?"

"You really should cut Haley some slack. I mean, dude, she's just tutoring me. You don't have to always make her feel like she's betraying you or something."

Lucas's eyes turns into angry blue slits. "What are you talking about?" He asks in a voice that clearly indicates that he knows exactly what I'm talking about.

Who knew I could read Lucas this well. I smirk at him, adding fuel to the fire. "We both know that we can't stand each other but it has got nothing to do with Haley, I don't see why you have to keep dragging her into it."

"You don't know what you're talking about." Lucas practically spits the words out.

Definitely hit a sore spot there. "You can't keep on making her feel bad just because she has to tutor me."

Lucas squints his eyes at me, takes another step closer. "I don't know where you're getting your ideas Nathan but are you listening to yourself? You're the one who dragged her into all of this not me. You expect me to believe that you just happen to need a tutor, who just happens to be my best friend?"

"The world does not revolve around you, Lucas."

"Right, of course. It revolves around you." He snorts and shakes his head. "The only reason Haley is tutoring you is because of me. For me. If you're so bothered by that, why don't you get another tutor?" It's Lucas' turn to smirk at me. "Oh, wait, you are getting a new tutor."

Have I mentioned how much I hate this guy?

Seething, lips curling in rage, teeth clenching, breathing heavily, I suddenly realize that I'm out of argument. He's right. Haley only tutored me because of and for him. And usually, this is enough of an incentive to finally throw a fist at Lucas's face but not today. I've had it today. I'm just sick and tired of this never-ending need to be better than Lucas and for what? Really, for what? For Dan? Because it's certainly not making me feel any good anyway. It fucks up everything. The team. My game. My chances with Haley.

Lucas had just won today's pissing contest, I might as well let him walk away with it. I give Lucas one last look before turning towards my locker, "Well, I hope that means you'd finally stop being a dick to your best friend."

"Fuck you Nathan." And then he's out of the locker room, slamming the door close behind him.

I'm a little taken aback at how pissed off Lucas sounds. The guy's usually always so annoyingly calm, always the upstanding example of the kind of level-headedness seventeen year old boys aren't just quite capable of yet. I can honestly say that the only time I've seen him this furious was when he told me to stay the hell away from Haley.

I can feel my own anger growing at the memory. Who does the guy think he is anyway? They're best friends. He does not own her. And yeah, okay, so maybe he does have a point, that I did go to Haley to screw with him, but fuck him. He's been treating Haley like crap too! I might not be the most sensitive guy around but I've seen the looks Lucas would give Haley every time he spots us together by the tutor center or by the hallways, talking.

Haley doesn't have to tell me but I know that she and Lucas had been having a rough time and I know I had planned it all, to get in between them, to mess up their relationship. This should be the exact moment to celebrate the apparent success of my newly abandoned-plan. This is the part where I let up a whoop of joy, call out Tim, have a laugh at the how I've managed to wreck Lucas and Haley's friendship. This is what I had been trying to do the past couple of weeks. I'm supposed to be enjoying this moment.

And yet, I can't remember feeling so completely, utterly miserable.

I can't help but hear Haley's voice inside my head, asking: "Oh, Nathan, what have you done?"

I got out of the gym a few minutes later, head out into the parking lot and surprise, surprise, I find Lucas standing idly next to my car. The guy has a death wish or something.

"You again." I tell him disdainfully, shaking my head. "This is getting old Lucas." I open the car door, toss my bags inside, slam it shut and he's still there, squinting at me. "This better be good." I mutter darkly at him.

Lucas takes a deep breath, looks away for a few second, before squaring up his shoulder and looking back at me. "I don't care about you or your grades or your game," He starts off and what a nice start, by the way. I clench my jaws.

"And yet another thing you're telling me that I already know about."

Lucas ignores this. He hooks his thumb over to the straps of his back pack, lifting it a little, shrugging his shoulder. "But you're right, we can't put Haley between this." He stops to take another deep breath, looking quite uncertain and then, "If you want to talk to her and apologize, she'd be at the Rivercourt later."

I frown at Lucas, shake my head. "Right. Yeah, you must think that I'm really stupid."

Whatever patience Lucas might have worked on slips instantly as he lets out a loud sigh. "I'm starting to think that you actually are. I'm not doing this for you, Nathan. I'm doing this for Haley. I don't trust you but I trust her." Lucas clenches his jaws, looks at me straight in the eye. "Don't make me regret this."

I hold Lucas's gaze for a moment, scowling darkly at him. "I don't need your help. This is between me and Haley." I get inside the car, start the engine but Lucas obviously isn't finished yet. He taps at the window.

What the hell is this? First, I didn't bash Lucas's face in, even if he did deserve it that time and now suddenly Lucas wants to have some sort of conversation with me? The world has gone mad. "What?" I ask, rolling the window down.

"There is **_nothing_** between you and Haley." And with that Lucas walks away, ending our conversation.

I sit still, cool air blowing on my face, the afternoon sunlight washing into the dark interiors of my car. I can feel the weight of his word settle over my chest. Gripping the steering wheel, I curse softly.

And the score today, ladies and gentlemen:

Nathan Scott – zero (plus an air ball and a new tutor).

Lucas Scott – two (plus Haley and Peyton).

I start the engine and peel off of the parking lot, tires screeching. I am so not going to let him win


	12. Home Court Advantage

**Chapter Twelve:** Home Court Advantage

I've driven in circles all afternoon. Tree Hill is a small town: drive in a straight line and you'll eventually find yourself at a dead end, gotta turn back around and around again as soon as you hit another dead end. A straight line that's really a circle. I bet even Haley wouldn't even be able to explain _that_.

So anyway, mom and dad had been calling like crazy. Someone must've told Dan the highlights of today's practice: _Your boy Nathan, lest there be any confusion, threw an impressive air ball, could not get enough lift for his jump shots and, you're gonna love this, got demoted in an inter-squad scrimmage from captain to nobody. Guess who got the top spot?_

I wouldn't be surprised if this caused another spat between my parents. Dad would be pissed about my lackluster performance. Mom would be pissed about dad being pissed at something so silly. Dad would be pissed at mom for implying that there are other things more important than basketball. And of course, this will all eventually lead to them being pissed at me. It's pretty redundant, actually. And that's just one of the many reasons why I'm not exactly looking forward to coming home.

Usually, back when things were good with Peyton, I'd end up at her place; let her take my mind off things. Not that I've been tempted to. Given the fact that we've barely spoken since the breakup, I doubt it'll go over well if I end up by her doorstep explaining that I had an incredibly shitty day and I just want some sort of solace or company or anything that she might want to offer. And besides, I have a feeling that's she's bound to give me another painful monologue on what an incredible jackass I am – so, no thanks.

But this still does not explain why, after a dizzying spin around Tree Hill, I ended up pulling over at the wrong side of the tracks. It's almost like stepping into a different town. Nothing looks and feels familiar. No ridiculously large, perfectly manicured lawns, no flashy cars on the driveway either. In fact, there are more bikes haphazardly left along the grassy lot than cars parked outside. The only thing I recognize is Keith's old beat up truck, parked right in front of me, facing the Rivercourt.

Back to where it all started.

If only Lucas hadn't made that stinkin' shot. I scan the whole court, eyes darting back and forth, trying to take it all in. This is the first time I've come back here since trashing the place up and I have to admit, Lucas managed to salvage the place. Actually, it looks almost the same way it did, before the spray paint and the busted hoops.

And why is it that I am so good at wrecking things and Lucas at fixing them up?

Scowling darkly at the thought, feeling my stomach churn, I turn my attention towards the bleachers half-filled with kids that I didn't even know existed. Kids who probably go to the same school as I do and how sad is that? I sit there, gripping the steering wheel, thinking about this startling realization on how Lucas and my life seemed to have been carefully, elaborately separated. Like our parents actually had a hand at putting up an almost perfect façade: there are two different worlds – one for each son – there really was no need, no reason at all for us to have gotten to know each other. Except on the court and to play ball.

And well, maybe… my eyes immediately search for her.

I don't know how it's possible and it's probably just my eyes playing tricks on me, but every time I look at her, she always has that soft, glowing radiance around her, like an aura or halo or something equally kooky sounding – but it's there alright. That light permanently attached to her. And that's how I easily spot her from amongst the river rats that Lucas likes to hang out with.

She's wearing a red sweater and that fuzzy moss-green thing she likes to call a hat. Brooke would shudder at the mere sight of it but I think the hat makes her look so original. So… _Haley_.

I drink in the sight of her as she goofs off with the guys, playfully trying to swat the ball away from Lucas, who's expertly spinning it on his index finger. Lucas manages to dodge Haley's hand, but she doesn't look all that impressed and she isn't about to give up that quickly. She none too gently nudges Lucas on the side, rests her chin on his shoulder before attacking him with her fingers. Lucas jerks away from her, laughing loudly as he loses control of the ball.

"Oh you did not just do that!" He chortles, grabbing Haley's hand and pulling her in for a hug.

Something painful clenches and unclenches inside my chest. The all too familiar feelings of resentment washes over me but this time, it's combined with something, I don't know, wistful, maybe?

I briefly wonder what if this had been my world, would I feel just as threatened if Lucas suddenly decides to take over, steal it away from me?

I think I'd probably be even more protective. Probably more selfish. Or maybe that's just who I am. And how do you fight against that? How do you try to change who you are? You just can't.

 _Or won't._ Haley's ever present voice inside my head mumbles gently.

I pause long enough to wince before nodding my head in agreement. "Or won't." I echo back, my voice filling the stillness inside the car.

I take a deep breath before finally stepping out, slamming the door hard enough to announce my presence and predictably enough, all conversation abruptly stops. I can feel everyone staring at me and I stare right back at them, fist tightly clenched.

I don't believe in home court advantage shit. Attitude is everything. Doesn't matter where you are, it's always how you play the game. I don't care if there are 100,000 local fans booing me, calling me names. I take my A-game everywhere I go.

Straightening up, squaring my shoulders, I purposely stride over to Lucas, stopping only to pick up the ball that had rolled away. Without warning, I threw a missile of a chest past at Lucas. He catches the ball with ease. If Lucas is surprised to actually see me here, he doesn't show it. The only greeting I get is a small nod of his head.

"Nathan."

"Lucas," I casually reply back.

The silence stretches for about a second or two before Lucas's friend, Skills or Skids, I think, I'm not sure and I really don't care either, asks: "Is there a problem here?"

I frown a little. Is there? I wouldn't really know, since this is all on Lucas. He's the one who orchestrated this little show. I mean, if he's feeling guilty for being the worst best friend, trying to make amends by asking me to come here just so I can talk to Haley, well, then, I have no problem with that.

Although, Haley might think a little differently. I can feel her eyes on me and I know for a fact that she's scowling up at me. We have a pretty solid agreement that she keeps tutoring me as long as I don't bother Lucas. And well, since technically she's not tutoring me anymore, then I get to this.

Is this bothering Lucas? I hope so.

"No, no problem." I answer, shaking my head, putting up my palms in a friendly gesture.

"What do you want Nathan?" Lucas asks not unkindly, raising his eyebrows at me. "You lost?"

"I'm not lost. I came here for Haley." I finally turn my head to where she's sitting, keeping my eyes on her, addressing only her, because it isn't like I'm asking for Lucas's permission or approval or whatever. "We need to talk."

Haley blinks up at me in surprise, opens her mouth, on the verge of saying something before snapping it shut, her teeth claiming her bottom lips. And as always, I see this all in slow motion. I can't explain it either, but I swear, everything that has got to do with Haley James's mouth, always moves in a damning, slow, sexy pace and Christ, I hope I'm not getting cross-eyed over this.

Swallowing hard, I tear my gaze off her, turning my attention back to Lucas and the rest of his friends who are all looking at each other, different shades of surprise filling up their faces. Mouth looks at Chubby Kid, Chubby Kid looks at Skills/Skids and he in turns look at Lucas who glances briefly at Haley and then back to me.

I'm reminded of a tennis game I was once forced to watch. All these heads going back and forth, back and forth, follow the ridiculous little yellow ball, people. It's pretty funny actually and I would've probably appreciated it more if I wasn't feeling so goddamn exposed, waiting for Haley to do something, say anything.

I gotta tell you, I've never been put into this kind of position before. The potential humiliation factor here just shot up to way beyond high. Way beyond acceptable. And if Haley tells me no, go to hell Scott – not that I think she would, but she might – I'm certain I'm never going to live this down.

It's a pretty scary place to be in. Not being in control.

I swallow hard. The suspense is seriously fucking me up, I didn't even hear Haley say ' _Okay'_ or ' _Yes'_ or anything for that matter. The only thing that registers to me is that she had hopped out of her seat and is now awkwardly standing by my side.

"I'll catch up with you guys later." She announces, although I can tell that the message is really meant for Lucas who grimaces at her, looking quite worried. I watch as Haley rolls her eyes, slowly grinning at Lucas before facing me, her face flushed. "Let's take a walk." She tells me and without waiting for any response, she does a half spin and wordlessly sets off.

As soon as Haley's back is turned against us, Lucas is quick to give me a warning glare, one that silently tells me he's not above inflicting any kind of pain if I put just one toe out of the line.

I give him the smallest nod I could muster, jamming my fist inside my pockets, walking away - backwards for a few seconds, keeping my eyes on the bleachers. And when I'm quite certain he isn't going to give any signal to any of his friends to attack and kill, I slowly turn and jog towards Haley.

* * *

We walk silently for a long time, with her leading the way. I think I have an idea where we're heading and I don't know if this is all subconscious on her part but it seemed fitting to end up at our place by the docks.

I glance around, realizing that I've never been here at night. Can't really see the river, just a blanket of darkness, broken by little flashes of silver but I can still definitely hear it. I close my eyes for a few seconds, just listening, breathing in deeply. Well, this is definitely more like it. Less hostile territory.

My mind is racing for something to tell her, something to get her to look up at me with those brown eyes of her. Something to fill in the silence that has settled between us. I open my mouth and tell her the next dumbest thing that I could think of: "So I met the new tutor."

It does the trick though as Haley glances at me, arching her eyebrows. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," And then frowning, scratching my eyebrows, I ask: "Did you tell him what time practice ends?" I catch her lips curling up a little. It's enough of an answer.

She so knew I'd freak out finding the new tutor hanging outside the locker room, arms outstretched, grinning like mad Cheshire cat: "Nathan Scott, pleased to meet you, I'm your new tutor." And like a military lieutenant, he had snapped out an outlined schedule complete with target dates and deadlines.

"That was a pretty sneaky thing to do, James." I tell her, wagging a finger in front of her face.

"I thought you'd want to meet him before he starts tutoring you." She answers, innocently shrugging her shoulder and I gotta hand it to Haley, she sure knows how to pick 'em. She had obviously chosen someone she knew I couldn't easily bully. She might not want to tutor me anymore, but she cares enough to make sure that I'm still going to get good grades

"He seems…" Utterly neurotic. Maybe even psychotic. " _Okay_."

She gives me a quick, lightning fast glance but remained uncharacteristically quiet. Sometimes, I have a strange feeling that she can hear the not-so-nice thoughts inside my head. I give her my most innocent, little boy smile and she lets out a soft snort before shaking her head. "He's really good, Nathan."

I don't doubt it and I seriously don't care either. "That's great, Haley but I don't want him to be my tutor. I want you. I don't want anyone else."

Haley looks quite taken aback, her eyes widening, brown and warm and dark and light all at the same time. I think I might have said that a little too desperately. Backpedalling a little, I shrug my shoulders, hoping that it looks casual enough. "Look, okay, I was an ass. I'm sorry. I'll fix my schedule. I'll deal with my dad if I have to; just tell me I don't have to switch tutors. I mean, we already have a… _rapport_ , you know?" I grin at her, "And c'mmon, d'you really think Tutor Guy and I would actually get along fine?"

Haley doesn't say anything, just ducks her head and works her jaw, furiously chewing her bottom lips. She spent an entire second looking down at our feet before slowly meeting my eyes, her mouth set in a determined line, her chin looking more stubborn than the last time I remember. "I just don't think that it'll work out, Nathan."

"Why the hell not? It has worked out before, why is it suddenly unworkable?"

"I don't know, Nathan! I don't have all the answers, okay." She declares irritably, walking past me and plopping herself down the wooden bench. She lets out a huge sigh and in a gesture of utter frustration she pulls her hat off, twisting it in her hand.

I watch as fistful of her hair spill over to her shoulders, tumbling down, brown knots loosening, falling invitingly down her chest and her back. I can feel my throat parching up. She looks so goddamn inviting, sitting there, pouting angrily at me. I feel the sudden urge to take one giant big step towards her, reach out and touch her hair.

I bet it would feel as soft as it looks.

I've already taken a step towards her before I even realized it and I had to jerk my body back, lean heavily unto the railings, hoping that the sound of the water would somehow calm me down. Anchor me to my spot, before I do something really stupid. "C'mmon Haley, I swear, I'll do anything you want. Anything. I promise I'll-."

"I don't want you promising anything, Nathan." I hear her mumble and that tone of voice, kind of soft and miserable and lonely snaps something inside me.

"What, why? What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. I didn't," Haley pauses, briefly looks up at me, biting her lips, "It didn't mean anything."

Well, it sounded like she meant something and I'm going to stay here all night, if that's what it'll take until she tells me the truth. I slowly walk over to her, not wanting to startle her or anything before sitting down, my knees grazing hers. She keeps her face averted, focused somewhere past my shoulders. I have to bend a little so I can look closely at her face and that's when I notice it.

I could feel myself frowning at her appearance, not that she looks horrible or anything. In fact, she looks especially nice tonight: her face is brightened by the cold, more rosy; her lips a perfect match to the slight blush of her cheeks. I can smell the vague, soft, sweet, clean scent of her lip gloss and her perfume and her shampoo and she smells wonderful as always. Same refreshing Haley James except for the sad, lost look in her eyes, the downward curve of her lips.

She looks unhappy, that's what she looks like right now. Unbearably unhappy.

"Haley-"

"It's just not going to work out- this whole tutoring thing. We're just obviously never going to get past the fact that you hate my best friend."

I scowl at this. "Well it's not like Lucas is just bursting with love for me."

"Aren't you getting tired of all this? This – this whole…" She runs her hand against her hair, tousling it about. "Sometimes I feel like, I don't know," she shrugs her shoulder dejectedly.

"Alright, you know what, forget about it. Fine. Hand me over like I'm some used piece of… _something_." I crossed my arms against my chest, sulking at her.

"Don't be so dramatic, Nathan. You almost sound like Lucas."

I give her a dark look, choosing to ignore the fact that she had just said that I sound like Lucas. Clearly, Haley is a little too upset to realize what she had just said. I'm not going to fault her for that, so I ask her instead, "How long have you been tutoring me?"

"What?" She scrunches up at her face, completely taken aback by the question.

"How long have you been tutoring me?" She doesn't answer right away and Jesus, I am going to look so lame after I say this, but what the hell, it's not often I get to have an answer to something that she doesn't know. Or pretends to not know. Whatever. "Officially, three weeks, four days and about thirteen hours," her eyes slowly grow impossibly bigger at how accurate that sounds. "That's how long we've known each other."

Haley chuckles a little, surprising me. "Plus the two days you stalked me, trying to get me to tutor you."

"I didn't stalk you, James."

Haley smiles wanly at me. "Really? That's not how I remember it, Scott."

I roll my eyes at her. I might have pulled the injured puppy dog eyes look to guilt talk her into tutoring me, yeah, that I'd admit but there had certainly been no stalking involved. "My point is, there are a lot of things you don't know about me."

Her brown eyes lights up just the tiniest bit, but it's a start. She's clearly finding this amusing, "Well, this I'd like to hear."

"I'm a good listener." I state this matter-of-factly, crossing my arms against my chest, daring her to contradict me. Haley is silent for a few seconds before she bursts out laughing and even if I do enjoy the sound of her laughter, it still isn't my intention. I feel my ego smarting a little. "What?" I ask her, wincing at how sullen I sounded.

" _Oh_! You were being serious! Sorry." It takes her a whole second to compose herself, her laughter bubbling in the surface but she swallows it down, gives me a serious look before leaning closer, "It's just that, and correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't Whitey always complain about how you never listen to anything that he has to say?"

"First of, don't let Coach hear you calling him 'Whitey'. You're gonna get detention for that. Second, you can tell whoever your source is," Lucas most probably, ass bag just can't keep his mouth shut, "that I do listen. I listen when I want to listen." I pause, staring down at her, "And lastly, I listen to you."

Haley nods her head. "Well, you should, I'm your tutor. I mean, was your tutor."

"It's not just because of that." Quietly, I add: "I remember everything that you say."

Haley blushes and glows, looking a little embarrassed. "You do not!"

"Oh yeah? The other week, you told me that your sister, Vivian, had gotten engaged to Eric, her high school sweetheart and a week after that you said you think it's just sick that she wants her wedding gown to be pink…"

I watch as a shade stronger than scarlet crept up her cheeks. "I hate pink."

"I know, you told me that too. And the last time you tutored me, you told me that a trihedron is a three-dimensional geometric figure formed by the intersection of three planes and-"

"Okay," Haley finally says, her full lips slightly parting in astonishment "that is kind of impressive."

"I'm built to impress." I answer smugly.

"I said _kind of_. Don't get too excited." The accompanying smile was brief, but warm.

I find myself grinning back at her. My usual charms doesn't always work on her and I think I'm secretly glad that she's not so susceptible to whatever glib line I might have. "See, so how 'bout you tell me what's wrong."

I wince internally as Haley immediately retreats, her hands gripping the edges of the wooden bench a little too tightly. I can see her knuckles slowly turning white. "There's nothing wrong." Haley insists, still not meeting my eyes.

I'm not about to give up that easily. I slowly swallow hard, contemplating on what to say next. Haley has always helped me, I mean, I suppose she doesn't realize it, but the hours I've spent with her as she patiently tried to explain all those stupid equations and stuff, all those times she listened to everything that I had to say – good or bad – those were the only times that I could really forget about how fucked up things really were. I guess, I just want to give her that too. I clear my throat and in a low, gentle voice, devoid of any cockiness or arrogance, I ask her: "Are you sure? You wanna talk about it?"

Haley shakes her head, pursing her lips. "Ugh, no not really."

"Why not? I can be your friend today. It's a once in a lifetime opportunity, James. I won't ask again."

"That sounds really egotistically nice, Nathan, but seriously, I'm fine."

I remember a previous conversation from a thousand memories ago: the party at our beach house, me insisting on driving her home. She was being such a girl that night. Claiming that she can walk home all by herself, like I was going to let her.

Haley must've read something in my eyes because she suddenly tilts her head to the side, trying to hide the slight blush gracing her cheeks. The gesture is becoming familiar to me. "I meant fine as in I'm totally okay. I…"

I keep my eyes locked on her, watch her resolve waver and falter and then: "I had a fight with Lucas," she blurts out and as though after having been able to say it out loud, the floodgates open up. "We're okay now." She quickly adds, "I mean, I think we are. I'm just not used to fighting with him. I just, sometimes I don't know what to do and that has never happened before. With Luke, I always know. Like I always know that I'm his best friend. That I always will be. I don't want that to change but… but what if it can't be helped?"

I open my mouth to say something, angrily snapping it shut when I couldn't think of anything. I bring my hand across my face, briefly closing my eyes. Of course, it's about Lucas.

I'm such an idiot. I thought it might be about her grades or her parents or one of her crazy siblings and I may not exactly be the expert on those subjects but I figured I wouldn't mind listening to her rant about those things. I wasn't prepared to be the supportive friend in this whole Lucas Debacle of hers, which I have to remind myself that _I_ had started.

Well, good going Scott. You created this mess. Congratu-fuckin'-lations. You've made Haley miserable.

Haley must have misinterpreted my silence. "And I knew you wouldn't want to talk about it, so it's okay, we don't have to."

Panicked that she might leave now, I reach out to briefly take her hands. I'm not good with being tender or gentle or anything really, but I give her hand a small squeeze, pulling her a little closer to me.

"No, no. Look, I told you that I'll listen." Haley looks up at me, liquid brown eyes all sad and surprised and bright and hopeful and scared and nervous and every other emotion that she might be feeling, I could clearly see it. "I'm here, I'll listen." I tell her once more as she pulled her hands away from mine. Grinning slowly at her, I try to lighten up the mood. "Let's just use Chad instead of Lucas." Hey, I'm willing to compromise here.

" _Chad_?" She asks slowly, as though testing out the name, blinking up at me in an owlishly cute fashion.

I shrug my shoulders. "Yeah, what's wrong with Chad? So you and Chad had a fight, go on."

"Nathan," Haley says in a slightly amused voice, the admonition not as convincing as she probably had planned, especially since she's actually half grinning, half softly laughing.

I throw my hands up in the air and admit defeat. "Alright, fine. So, what'd you guys fought about?"

She pauses, bites her lips and stares at me. I let out a groan and a sigh. I should have known. I remember the conversation I just had with Lucas this afternoon and really, I just feel tons better knowing that the guy could babble things like that to Haley. And there I was, thinking that we had an almost brotherly sort of conversation – well, more like argument, really, but what does Lucas do? He goes running to Haley, tattling it all. Little fucker. "Haley, I was only telling the truth, if that upsets Lucas then that's not my problem anymore."

Haley frowns up at me, her eyebrows coming together in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"The, _ugh_ , conversation Lucas and I had this afternoon after practice," The blank look on Haley's face confirmed it. "That he obviously didn't tell you about."

"You guys talked? What did you talked about?"

I gave her a guilt-ridden smile, wincing a little, knowing just where this particular confession is going to lead. "Take a guess."

"Peyton." Haley finally tells me in a low voice, gently rubbing the bridge of nose.

I feel my own forehead creasing in confusion. "Peyton? Why would you think that?"

She gives me a look that I can't quite read. "Why wouldn't I think that? It's the only thing you two have in common aside from basketball."

"You're wrong." I tell her, locking eyes with her. "We didn't talk about Peyton." In fact, now that I'm trying to remember it, the last time I had griped about Lucas stealing Peyton was… well, it had been so long ago, I can't even recall anything. My mind draws a big fat blank.

"Well, whatever," Haley says, looking away. "I'm actually kind of glad you and Lucas are talking." She snorts softly, giving me a look that isn't quite a glare, but isn't affectionate enough either. "There's hope for the two of you yet. You and Lucas probably talked more this week than he and I did and," Haley pauses, swallowing hard, "And I guess that's what upsets me the most. Not you and Lucas being okay... well, sort of okay," she amends as I gave her a look. "It upsets me that Lucas and I have been friends since forever and suddenly I feel like everything is changing. I feel like we're growing apart. It just scares me." She gives me another glance. "And this whole tutoring-slash-hanging out, calling me, inviting me for a party, taking long walks, it isn't really helping."

"This is the first time we took a long walk together." I remind her. "And Lucas seriously needs to relax. It's not like I'm not trying to steal you away from him or anything…" I stop almost immediately, frowning as I suddenly remember something my grandma used to tell me when I was a kid.

Oh, God, I'm going to be struck dead by a lightning bolt for lying.

"I mean, I... listen, Haley-"

"It's just that he doesn't trust you and I kind of understand why. I mean, you did do all those horrible things to him."

"The hazing?" I asked incredulously, "Haley, everyone went through that. I did too when I first came into the team. We all had our fair share of having our lockers drenched and getting our clothes stolen so we'd have to end up walking around naked inside the locker room." Which was of course, by the way, Tim's bright idea, right about the time Routh came into the team.

Haley makes a face. "Euw. Okay, too much information."

"What I'm trying to say is, Coach knows everything - will eventually know everything - that's happening on the team, whether we like it or not and he isn't the kind of guy who'd let things get out of hand. If he thought that Lucas's hazing was out of line, there'll be punishment. Absolute hell to pay. I would have been yanked out of the team and probably even out of the school. Look, I don't want to sound like I'm making some lame excuse over the way I've treated Lucas. I mean, okay I guess I could've told the guys to let up a little and I'm sorry I didn't but like I said, everyone went through that; we didn't just decide to harass Lucas for no reason."

Haley lets out a heavy sigh, as though indicating that this particular topic should have never been opened up in the first place. We'd never see eye to eye when it comes to Lucas and it's just going to strain whatever sort of thing we have right now. "But it does sound like you're making an excuse."

I blink at her, clenching my jaws. I feel a wave of helpless anger hitting me like a hammer blow. I have absolutely nothing to say to that. She's right. And I guess she'll never be able to forget everything that I've done and it sure looks like it isn't likely that she'll ever forgive me either.

"But maybe I do understand why you were such a jerk back then." Haley says in a soft voice, she looks up at me, twisting her mouth a little. Her eyes held a great deal of sympathy, although still shadowed by a hardened resolve holding me accountable for all my actions. "I mean, you're always under a lot pressure from your-" She stops looks up at me, her tone lowering a little, "from everyone. I know that can be real hard. And I don't think that you're a bad guy, Nathan. I mean, I thought you were. Or that you used to be."

I sit up straighter at this. "Oh, so now I'm a what kind of guy?" I raise my eyebrows at her and unfortunately, Haley doesn't answer right away, which of course, does not bode well. I silently wait for her answer and it kind of struck me as a little odd, if not slightly alarming, how much I care about what she thinks about me. I'm probably not going to like whatever she's going to say, judging by the somewhat tormented expression on her face.

"Yeah." I mumble, answering for her. "Yeah, I guess I'm still that kind of guy who's a total jackass and is eventually going to take advantage of you. I'm sure Lucas had warned you about me." I know I am exactly that kind of guy but I just can't stand the thought of her thinking about me that way.

"You're kind of… _okay_. Lucas doesn't really see it yet and besides, it's like you go out of your way just to piss him off. You can't really blame him, you know." Haley tells me looking almost apologetic and despite her hopeful, encouraging smile, I must have looked something really unhappy, because she quickly reached out to pat my hand. "But you could be a real, great guy, Nathan, if you want to."

The initial burning disappoint I felt is quickly washed away by the intensity, the honesty of her gaze. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Of course and I mean, look, I haven't actually had to punch you or anything. That should count for something."

I snort out loud, shaking my head. It's surprising, how Haley says it like she believes in it and I honestly feel somewhat better. I mean, I don't know a thing about being a great guy and I know that sounds real awful and I wish I knew how to be the kind of guy that Haley thinks I could be. Kinda of like Lucas, I guess. Although, definitely minus the squinty eyed, emo-brooding attitude and that god-awful hair. And speaking of Lucas. "So, I gotta ask, is that the reason you didn't come to the party? Why you don't want to tutor me anymore? Because of Lucas?"

Haley emphatically shakes her head. "Lucas isn't the type to dictate what I should and shouldn't do. He meddles. A lot. But that's 'cause he cares. And just so you know, Luke doesn't always think or say the worst about you."

For some very strange reason, this makes me feel somewhat guilty. I mean, all these time I've been thinking that Lucas had been doing nothing but sling mud at my name every chance he could get, telling Haley or anyone who'd listen that I'm no good jock-scum, that she might as be well tutoring the devil incarnate - I mean, if I were Lucas and I was being tutored by Haley, I sure as hell would've done everything in my power for her to not tutor me.

I guess I could give Lucas the benefit of the doubt. It wouldn't really hurt and it would definitely lessen the bad blood we've been swimming in practically our whole lives. Plus, Haley and I wouldn't have to argue all that much. And as a little bonus, this would definitely piss my dad off, making peace with his sworn enemy.

At the corner of my eyes, I see Haley quietly watching me. I turn to look at her, "You know, I missed you at the party." And I can honestly say that it took a chink out of my pride to admit that to her but it was well worth it when she smiled at me, her whole face brightening. "The party really sucked."

"That bad huh?"

"And Dan was totally pissed off about the whole drinking thing." She arches her eyebrows in silent question. Wincing a little, I tell her that I kinda had a lot to drink at the party.

"Like how many?" She asks curiously.

"Like a bottle of vodka."

Haley laughs out loud. "You are such a liar."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, maybe a bottle and a half. Possibly two."

She whistles, more amused than impressed. "Drunk as a skunk."

"Pretty much. When I got home, they were getting ready to kill each other and I guess I kind of interrupted their fight, so somehow, they ended up being pissed at me. They're unbelievable." I couldn't help the angry bitter tone seeping in, remembering how the whole fight from that weekend escalated into what seemed to me like the beginning of World War Three.

"Hey, are you okay?" Haley immediately asks, peering at me with worry in her brown eyes

Startled at the quiet concern in her voice, I felt myself reeling a little.

Crap.

I hadn't meant to tell her that. This isn't the kind of conversation I want to have with Haley. It's embarrassing enough that everyone knows how my father likes to control our lives and how my mom and I pretty much let him do what he wants but letting it slip that my parents are three arguments away from divorcing each other is another low.

"I'm fine." I tell her with a shrug, "I should have known better to step in into a middle of a war zone. It gets ugly." I avert my eyes, hoping she'd just drop the subject. This isn't like talking about Peyton, which even though had been personal, was already way over and done with. I can talk about Peyton and our screwy relationship; it doesn't really affect me anymore. Not this though. I don't want to look like the poor, miserable abandoned boy in her eyes. Lucas can play that role to the hilt if he wants to but I just don't that shit.

"Nathan, I didn't know." Haley says, looking somewhat obscurely hurt. Upset even.

I'm actually torn between being slightly happy at her show of concern and feeling guilty and protective at the same time. I never planned on sharing with her this burden. It's not hers to carry around with and knowing her, she'd probably do just that

"It's really okay, Haley. I mean, all things considered, it's not like I got the worst bunch: an overbearing father and an absentee mother. It's not exactly a family tragedy, right?" And besides, I add silent, I've always dealt with it on my own.

I look at her face, the worry so painfully evident in her eyes. It's just strangely comforting knowing that somehow, at least today, I didn't have to go through it all by myself. I lean towards Haley just a bit, moving my hand near hers, a silent invitation, a newfound compulsion on my part, I don't know anymore, but I'm certainly half-waiting, half-hoping that she'd placer her hands on top of mine. I can feel my skin starting to ache a little, anticipating her touch.

I watch wordlessly as Haley scooted closer, her jeans-covered knees grazing mine and I feel a hundred-something watts of electricity arcing right through me.

I look down at her, thinking how I can so easily tuck her underneath my arms and she could lay her head against my chest. God, I want to pull her closer.

It surprises me a little, this almost desperate desire to feel her, to have her so near me.

"I'm so sorry, Nathan."

I shake my head, picking her smaller hand and placing it inside mine. I close my hand around hers, squeezing gently. "Hey, it's okay. Nothing to be sorry about. I'm used to it."

"Well, you really shouldn't be." She tells me in a low voice. "I mean, they're still your parents."

"I can deal with it." I assure her, looking down at our entwined hands. I swallow hard, before looking up, meeting her gaze, "And look, I'm sorry about you and Lucas. I guess I kinda of messed that up too." The surprise registers in her face but before she can say anything I very briefly place my finger against her lips, the gesture too feather-light, too quickly, I think I might have imagined the softness of her lips against my skin. "You said you and Lucas have been friends since the Ice Age, so if it's just because of me, I'm sure you guys would work it out. It's going to be okay."

Haley smiles brightly, brilliantly at me, her brown eyes lighting up. "Well, what do you know Scott, you're not lying. You are a good listener."

I grin at her. "Told you, I'm full of surprises."

"Well, so am I."

"But I already know that."

"Okay." Haley says, taking a deep breath, nodding her head. "Okay, I'll still tutor you." Her smile is nervous, but full of promise and she's giving me that odd, funny look that's been grazing her features more and more often. That funny look makes me a little nervous. It honestly does. I'm not even certain why, I mean, I don't even know what the funny look is for but I do know that it's nothing like the rest of her facial expressions that I have somehow memorized. It's something about the way her eyes crinkle, there's almost that playful, open glint to it. Not to mention that way her lips gently – almost invitingly part. I definitely like that look on her.

"Really?"

"No I just wanted to see that bright, hopeful, happy look on your face."

Her laughter sends a flood of warmth through me. "Very funny."

"No, it suits you."

"I'm not kidding around, Haley."

"Neither am I." And then, echoing Lucas's sentiments, Haley looks up at me and in a kinder voice she says, "Please don't make me regret this, Nathan."

"I won't." I tell her gently, sincerely and I plan on keeping that promise.


	13. Game Time

**Chapter Thirteen** : Game Time

The usual Friday Night Game became Thursday Night and, as expected, Ravens totally kicked the shit out of Bear Creek and, let me tell you, winning by twenty-eight points is freakin' awesome. Although, I still feel a little sorry for McCreavy, Warrior Captain, who looked anything but a warrior or a captain. He looked so utterly lost out there in the court, watching me repeatedly go to the hole, mercilessly dunking in his face.

Well, actually, no. Who am I kidding? I'm not sorry for him at all. It had been a Nathan Scott Show. That's right, _my_ show. Of course, trust dad to steal that away from me. He's been going around the house, dismissively waving any compliments he'd get for the way I played the last game but eagerly lapping everything up when it comes to how 'sophisticated' his annual party has become.

'Cause hitting on the bartender who is like half his age is the epitome of classy behavior.

"How many points again, Nathan?" One of dad's colleagues asks me. I open my mouth to answer, but dad beats me to it.

"Twenty-one." Dan answers smoothly. " _If_ he keeps this up, he just _might_ be a shoo-in for the MVP award."

My dad, great car dealer, probably the best in the county. Motivational speaker? Not so much. I turn my head towards him, giving him a small, tight smile. "Thanks for the vote of confidence dad. Real touching."

Dad gives me a look clearly telling me to either shut up or just walk away. Before it gets ugly. And I'm actually prepared to stay for all the ugly parts. It might just make this night a tad more interesting. Dinner hasn't even started yet and already this party is sucking ass like… well, I can't think of anything worse than being forced to hang out with dad's crowd, trading half smiles and half nods. The worst part is having to pretend that I know their sons and daughters.

"My son goes to Tree Hill High, you probably know him. He speaks so highly of you."

Someone who obviously does not know me. "Yeah, he's great. We're friends." I just wish I'd gotten rid of that mocking tone I used to have from the last time they asked me that. Which would probably be exactly a year ago. Christ, was I that much of a jerk? I'm brought back to the conversation when Tim's dad nervously clears his throat, commenting with an encouraging grin, "Well the Ravens had been on a damn winning streak, I wouldn't be surprised if you guys make it all the way to State this year."

"Thanks." I mutter as politely as I could, gritting my teeth and keeping the smile on my face. Sighing heavily, I try to concentrate on whatever it is that Tim's dad is saying. I feel like I at least owe it to him, aside from him being Tim's dad and all, he's also been a big team sponsor and the party, supposedly, is a way to thank the likes of Mr. and Mrs. Smith, who have so generously given to the Ravens. Of course, with my father idly commenting on Tim's lacklustre performance, we might just kiss our new uniforms goodbye.

"Tim's been doing great." I assured Mr. Smith, ignoring dad's small, humorless chuckle. I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. My father can be such a jackass. Seriously, this annual gathering of Dan Scott Ass Kissers is really starting to take its toll on me. Watching my dad make nice or try to make nice with the rest of the Tree Hill High alumni is cringe inducing. And to make matters worse, I am, under no circumstances, allowed to drink anything other than the non-alcoholic drinks they're serving. My ear is still ringing from Tim's panicked whining that he's being served soda or juice while Brooke has been getting glass after glass of Screaming Orgasms.

I can't blame Tim. Even Brooke, for that matter. There's nothing like watching a bunch of adults trying to outdo each other with their big talks about their work, their wives, the cars they drive, and of course, their precious little wonderful kids. I think I even heard the Davises smugly saying something about Brooke being a wonderful, loveable student. It's enough to make me want to drink and as soon as dinner is over, I am going to get that emergency vodka on my drawer. Something tells me I'm gonna need it tonight. Especially with the way I've been exchanging glances with Peyton and watching Peyton exchange glances with Lucas. It's giving me a fucking headache. I just do not need this kind of shit right now.

I know that I should never listen to whatever Brooke has to say but if Peyton is even remotely thinking about getting back together, it puts me in a position where I seriously don't wanna be in. Sighing and giving up with the charade, I mumble quick, wordless excuses, ignoring my father as he gives me another one of his long, hard, disappointed looks. I've played the Happy Son part – not as well as my dad would have wanted – but that's it. I'm done for the night. From this point forward, I'm going to avoid my dad – hell, all of the grownups. Sauntering over to the den, I spot the team and the cheerleaders converging by the receiving hall. Left with no choice, I quickly make my way towards them.

"That game was far by the most awesomest ever." Tim announces, huge goofy grin on his face.

"Did you see big, ole Mack-C after the game? He looked like he was about to cry." Vegas smirks, nodding his head.

"I told Nate, I told him, 'Dawg, you should've said something to him, you could've totally ruined the guy.'"

Almost everyone laughs at this, agreeing with Tim, except for Lucas who makes a disgusted face and promptly voices out his opinion, "Yeah, 'cause that would be a lot of fun, right?"

"What was that, Puke-face?" Tim asks out, loud enough to get the whole team's attention. There are a few nervous chuckles but the sudden awkward silence pierces the group. I roll my eyes and shake my head. I remember explicitly telling Tim to lay off Lucas tonight.

"Play nice, Tim." I tell him in a light warning tone as I enter the room, dropping into one of the leather seats. Tim gives me an injured pout right about the same time Lucas's face twists up in another frown. He shoots me a confused look, squinting his eyes as though trying to figure out just what the hell I'm up to. I don't know what I've done lately but Lucas had been giving me that squinty, measuring stare all afternoon. It would switch from curious to totally pissed, to plain out right distrust. Which is nothing new, really. It just really annoys the fuck out of me. I mean, if he wants to tell me something, why can't he just walk up to me and tell it to my face? I was honestly expecting some scathing comment about the crib – since he has plenty to say about the beach house – but oddly enough, aside from the weird looks, he seems content to just quietly mingle with the rest of the team and of course throwing in the occasional side long glances directed at Peyton.

"Whatever." Tim mutters, snapping me back into attention. "I was just telling Lucas to quit being such a stick-in-the-mud, we're all here to commemorate kicking BCW's ass."

"Wow, _commemorate_. That's a four syllable word, Tim." Brooke flicks her wrist, knocking back her fourth glass in one swallow before arching her eyebrows. "Have you been borrowing someone else's tutor?" The sly comment goes right through Tim but I instantly notice Lucas's facial expression change into a pained grimace. I send Brooke a glare, which she returns with a slow, knowing smile. The girl is up to something and whatever it is that Brooke is cooking up, I can already tell that it can't be good.

"Brooke, babe, The Tim doesn't need to be tutored. I know all the big, high-ballooning words."

There's a brief silence as everyone blankly stares at Tim and then Jake turns toward Lucas, cocking his head to the side. "I think he meant highfaluting."

"Aw, shut up JJ, who the fuck cares, we kicked Bear Creek's ass!" Tim says raising his cup high above his head and everyone around him started cheering loudly. Everyone except Lucas and Jake, of course. But despite how sucky this suck fest is turning out to be, I can feel my lips curling up in a smirk. Tim's right, it had been a _great_ night.

* * *

_Five minutes before the game._

It had started to become a pleasant little surprise whenever I find Haley James by the bleachers, sitting quietly, looking a tad bored even as she waited for the game to begin. She'd always have a book or a magazine with her and I think she's the only one who can sit through a game, completely immersed in whatever she's reading, oblivious to the madness going on around her. I have to smile at that. That's Haley James for you. The perfect picture of calmness in the center of a storm.

The downside of this, is that whenever I find her usual seat empty or worst, occupied by someone else, I feel the surprising, pinning weight of disappointment settling over me and I have a little trouble being enthusiastic about playing a game in which I already know what the outcome will be: I'll play, drive to the hole, score and we'll all go home grinning. Another night, another win.

Sighing, I listlessly pass the ball around, scanning the crowd again, the fourth time since I stepped on the court. Haley had promised to come and watch tonight's game and I know that she's the kind of girl who'd keep her word, it's just that…maybe she changed her mind. I mean, she doesn't always watch our games. She mentioned before that it wasn't because she didn't want to. It was just, most of the time, she had to help Karen close up the café and besides it wasn't like Lucas was obliging her to watch.

' _Luke knows that I'm not exactly the biggest fan of basketball. He understands.'_

But if I were Lucas, I would love to have her become the biggest fan of basketball. Or, at very least, of Nathan Scott.

Haley James: my own personal cheerleader. Briefly cheering up at the thought and grinning like an idiot, I fall in line with the rest of team shooting threes at the corner, trying to bring my concentration back to the game. I can feel the tension in the air thickening as the minutes ticked by. There's that low buzzing sound from the bleachers that would soon escalate into mad screaming. Tonight may be a regular season game but Bear Creek and Tree Hill has some sort of rivalry going on, granted that it's more because of the petty cheerleading spat that Brooke had managed to get into during last year's classics, but Bear Creek's also at the same spot as Tree Hill. Both still undefeated and neither team wants to have their first lost at the hands of the other.

Coach had already prepped up us for Bear Creek's style of play. We're a run and gun, fast paced team. Bear Creek likes to strategized, set up plays. And they have awesome plays, even if they do tend to dribble too much. Of course my dad thinks of Bear Creek as a lowly team, merely getting lucky and I'm supposed to use this game as an opportunity to score buckets, beef up my stats. He's counting on me, challenging me actually, to score more than twenty points. With a side bet of a triple double at the end of the game. If I can manage.

I can feel my mood darkening. Twenty points. Fucking piece of cake. And that triple double. I'll show him triple double. Grumbling at the low arch of my shots, I tried looking around again. One last time Scott, I tell myself, because hell, I'm not going to be all pathetic and disappointed and sad just 'cause Haley can't come tonight – and that's when I see her. The ball flies off my hand and into the net, soundless, perfect but I'm too busy staring at the very thing that I've been envisioning just seconds ago – all thoughts of dad and Whitey and Bear Creek and basketball and everything else flying away.

I can feel my mouth suddenly going dry. There she is, Haley James, walking towards her usual seat, Keith and Mouth following right behind her. There is nothing so out of the ordinary about this of course, as she usually always sits with Keith and Mouth but tonight, she's without a book or magazine a _nd_ she's wearing a royal blue pleated skirt, not too short, but enough to show off her damn hot legs. I didn't know she owned a skirt, let alone would wear one. But then again, this is the girl who loves to surprise me just when I think I have her all figured out.

Swallowing hard, I casually dribble the ball over to her side of the bleachers, doing stupid little jump shots, wondering how I can get her attention without being too obvious. Running towards her and making some lame assed comment about how it's so nice to see her here is something that Lucas would do. Of course, I also can't do anything that Nathan Scott would usually do, which would be something like sidling up to her, boldly running a hand over her bare arms, whispering in a low voice how she should be at the cheerleader's section over at the end of court, jumping around, pompoms in her hand, screaming my name - well, not with Keith present. Although seeing Haley blush over that might be worth it.

I turn my head back towards her, the same time she decided to look over my way. Our eyes meet. She smiles at me, her whole face brightening up; I'm almost tempted to look behind me just to be certain that the smile isn't for Lucas. I feel my lips pulling up in a satisfied smirk at how happy she seemed to see me. And this is going to sound really, really clichéd and stupid, but for a moment the whole gym receded into the background. It's just me and Haley and that familiar funny look on her face, not just grazing her features, but staying there. That oddly sweet inviting look that makes me want to run over to her and gently kiss her.

Suddenly unable to move, which is a good thing, because I just might end up doing something incredibly idiotic, I give her a small nod. She waves a little and suddenly laughs out loud as I accidentally bump into Tim who'd always nervously walk around the court – backwards – to calm himself down before the game. What can I say? The boy's really weird.

You know what's even weirder? Her laughter brings back everything that had momentarily disappeared: the sound of the crowd starting to get all riled up, basketballs bouncing off the floor and the backboards, the subtle barely there swishing of nets. Her laughter brings everything into focus, almost in a sharp kind of way. Like the light is painfully brighter, the noise more distinct – that sort of thing. It's amazing because it's the first time I've ever felt something like that. I mean, yeah, during crucial moments, high on adrenaline last two seconds of the game but never during pre-game warm ups and never just because of the sound of a laugh. Her laugh. Haley James's laugh. I like it that she can make me feel this way. It scares me a lot too that she can make me feel this way.

"Sorry man," Tim mutters, wincing.

Glad for the distraction, I turn towards Tim, shaking my head and patting him at the back. "Hey, yeah, it's okay."

Tim merely raises his eyebrows. "What's gotten into you? Where's your Game On Face?"

I frown at him. "My what?"

Tim scrunches up his mouth, twists his jaws and narrows his eyes into tiny little slits and then growls menacingly. Or tries to. He points at his ugly face. "This. You're usually always pissed off before the start of any game."

I shake my head. "Dude, what are you talking about? I don't look like that."

"You're in a good mood and playa, that's not a good sign." Tim frowns up at me, "Should I be worried?"

"You should be if you don't stop that backward walking thing that you do. Don't go wandering over the other side, you're gonna get killed over there." And not waiting for a response, I turn to look back at Haley but she's already busy chatting up with Keith and Mouth. I feel somewhat disappointed. I was hoping I could have her attention for a little while longer. Although, it didn't change the fact that she had given me that _smile_ and that she's wearing a cute somewhat semi-short skirt.

The girl has some serious ass. I start contemplating on the many fine qualities of Haley James when I hear Lucas shouting something from behind me: "Watch out for her Keith. Don't let her trick you into doing that two-person wave thing again."

"Three!" Haley happily answers back, excitedly pointing at Mouth.

"Oh, hell no." Mouth mutters. "I'm changing seats." And they all laugh at the pained expression on Mouth's face.

It's very sad, I realize with a start that I'm eavesdropping on this sort of conversation and I took it as my cue to leave. I'm about to jog over to Tim, who _had_ wandered over to the other side of the court, where he's getting odd, angry looks from the Bear Creek side, when I hear Keith call my name.

"Hey, good luck on the game, Nate."

I guess I looked mighty surprised because there's an awkward silence following that and I hadn't meant to be rude or anything, it's just that Keith and I barely talk. I know that it had been Keith who had given Whitey the idea to recruit Lucas - dad had made it a point to mention it to me – but I'm not mad at Keith, I just figured he'd be mad at me, especially with all the stunts I pulled trying to get Lucas out of the team. I just wasn't expecting Keith to still be supportive. I clear my throat and, with more emotion than I intended, I thanked Keith.

I can feel Haley's eyes on me and even when I can't see her face, I'm sure she's smiling that bright, warm smile of her. And this time, I'm sure that it's for me. Feeling oddly pleased with the thought, I tried to not grin so much as I gave Keith another nod which he returns with a wink.

The buzzer sounds off, signalling the start of the game. I can hear Whitey calling for a huddle.

"Game time." Tim says, walking past us, backwards, of course. Shaking my head, wondering not for the first time on how Tim and I are friends, I give Haley one final glance. She raises her eyebrows at me before giving me two-thumbs up sign, a smirk playing on her face. It took me a while to realize that it was because I was standing next to Lucas and we're both acting perfectly calm, almost like actual team mates and not glaring at each other or throwing punches. Rolling my eyes at her, I finally give in to temptation. I jog over to her and grinning cheekily, I tell her in a low, practically growling sort of voice: "Nice legs, James."

The blush she rewards me is enough to set me on fire.

* * *

"Dude, you were like, on fire that night." Tim is still going on about last night's game. I don't know how long he plans on talking about it but I hope, with a little more drink, he'd finally shut up. Ignoring his comment, I concentrate or at least try to concentrate on the current game, keeping my eye on Vegas as he waves the ball high up in his head, waiting for him to pass it on to Routh.

Dinner had ended hours ago and the party had broken off into the typical groups: wives inside, gossiping and the men out by the backyard. Everyone is sipping their ninth, tenth, maybe eleventh cocktail. Dad's probably gotten someone drunk enough to donate another set of gym equipment, so I guess his little speech about Team Spirit wouldn't be for nothing. And the kids? Well, we're all out by the basketball court, playing the same old games.

"Twenty-one points, thirteen rebounds and four assists." Tim recites my stats from that night, heartily slapping me on my back. "A couple more, like maybe two or three and that could've been another triple-D."

"Six actually but I think Nathan gets the idea." Jake idly comments, peering inside his cup.

"You're such a smart ass, JJ." Tim obviously has had too much to drink or he wouldn't be sneering at Jake right now.

Jake merely raises his eyebrows. He has that look on him, like that of a parent tiredly scolding a little kid. "Tim, quit calling me that or-."

"Or what? You gonna run and tell coach?"

Jake sighs and shakes his head. "Why am I still here?" He asks out loud and without another word, he turns and walks away.

"What's his problem?" Tim asks and when no one answered him, he turns to me. "What's everyone's problem?"

Shaking my head, I slap the ball away from Routh, turning, jumping and effortlessly shooting it through the hoop. Tim lets out a whistle, "That's what I'm talking about!"

"Routh, you better sit your ass out. You've been letting Nathan steal the ball all night." Vegas grumbles, picking up the ball and passing it unto to Tim who is more than happy to sub. I watch as Routh ambled over to one of the patio chairs, loosening his tie and gesturing at one of the cheerleaders to get him another drink. Bevin hands him one, smiling as she sits on his lap, giving Vegas a look that clearly says he better start paying her some attention. Snorting, I roll my eyes at this, turning my attention back to Tim who is currently making half-assed shots, much to Vegas's delight.

So much for paying his sometimes girlfriend any attention. I let them play, watching and not watching at the same time. I really don't feel like playing but I need to do something to distract myself. Too many things are happening right now, I don't know which one to focus on. I thought I could get just grab a ball and forget about everything. I mean, usually, it does the trick, tonight though, it just isn't working.

My mind flashes on the image of Peyton kissing Lucas only to flee the scene like a lost, angry little girl. It replays inside my head over and over again and I'm waiting for the familiar jealous rage I've often felt whenever I'd find Lucas and Peyton together but it's just not there anymore. I can honestly say that I am not at all affected – well, not as affected as I thought I'd be. I mean, okay, it was cringe inducing but not gut wrenching, you know?

I guess a lot of it had to do with that fact that I've finally gotten the chance to talk to Peyton. We needed that talk. I mean it’s one thing to know that our relationship had finally ended, it's another to finally have to say it out loud and hear it from her as well. It's not like I'm surprised at all. Maybe just a little sad. Despite the many dramas, Peyton and I did have some good times. Not as many as we both would've liked but I guess it's okay since we ended it nicely this time. No shouting, no name calling, no tears. I apologized for all the times I acted like a jerk and we both accepted the fact that we just weren't good for each other. Peyton had summed it up quite nicely: "We just don't bring out the best in each other, Nathan."

I agreed with her. I know what kind of relationship that is. It's kind of like my mom and dad's and I'd be a real idiot if I didn't see that. Anyway, we didn't have to give each other the 'We'll still be friends' speech. I feel like whatever happens, Peyton and I will always be friends. I'll always care for her and I know that she'll always care for me too.

I let my eyes wander over to where Peyton had ran off too, Lucas right on her heel. I'm a little worried about her and I guess I'm also a little glad that Lucas is with her right now, although I'm not really sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Especially with Brooke still lurking about. The girl just can't be drunk without engaging and egging other people to play her lame games. She's been acting like petulant, spoiled little girl tonight. She's like a human wrecking ball - taking a swing at everyone and anyone with complete and total disregard. It's bad enough that she had tried to manipulate me and Peyton into getting back together; she just had to top that by making a show of how much of a bitch she could really be. To her own best friend. Over a boy. I can't remember seeing Brooke and Peyton act this way before. I mean, sure I've seen them bitch at each other, but not like this. Not with so much venom.

"This sucks." I mutter softly, ignoring Tim and Vegas's calls as I walked away. Things would definitely be so much better if Haley was here. The more I'm hanging out with this 'b-ball crowd' the more disappointed I am that I didn't invite Haley. I had wanted to so badly; I just couldn't bring myself to listen to her turn me down again.

* * *

_One Hour after the Game_

There is nothing like celebrating a kick-ass game at the locker room. Everyone is jostling about, laughing and teasing each other. It's a party atmosphere, without the alcohol and the girls but we always make up for that during the post-game parties – which is what everyone is currently happily talking about, that and the much awaited long weekend officially starting. There's a long list of parties to stumble on to from tonight onwards, cumulating on the grand big daddy of all parties, my dad's black tie event. Everyone's trying to decide which party they should crash tonight. There's Brooke's party, where all the cheerleaders would be and that's always a nice place to start.

And like all the other times we've won this season, Coach is oblivious to all these. Or pretending to be. He's the only one who looking all sober and grave, standing in the midst of it all, shaking his head and quietly studying the team standing board mounted on the wall, pondering on our next game or something equally serious. He lets us horse around for a few minutes before he calls an abrupt stop to it and lays down the game's stats. He silently stares at the paper our assistant coach, Jeff, had handed to him, his expression darkening. Looking up, I'm not at all surprised that the first question is directed at me.

"How many assists, Nathan?" Coach asks and as the question hangs in the air I can feel myself scowling. I know this is going to be brought up; I just hadn't expected it to be so soon. I feel the euphoria of the win suddenly fading. Sometimes, I really hate playing this game. It's just so tiring trying to please everyone. "I didn't check, Coach." I carefully answer back.

Whitey gives me a long look and wordlessly points at the wall where our stats had just been posted. He could've just handed me the paper, of course, but coach thinks that everything has been handed to me since birth and he isn't going to have any of that, not if he can help it. Sighing, I go over to the board, my finger scrolling down through the papers: Points. Fouls. Rebounds. Steals. Assists. Ah. There. I pause, feeling my eyebrows rising at the number printed beside my name.

Twelve assists. Not bad. Oh, wait, no. That's L. Scott. _Crap._ I search for my name, wincing a little when I finally found it. I briefly wonder if I should lie but then that'll be really stupid. "Four." I answer with a miserable roll of my eyes.

"Four. Now what does that say? Hhmm?" Coach asks, looking at me. When I didn't answer, he sweeps his gaze across the room, watching as the whole team squirmed under his watchful eyes. Coach smiles slowly, menacingly. "Now I know y'all have plans for the long weekend," a couple of hooting and hollering can be heard, all of them immediately silenced as coach sends a glare their way. "And what I'd like is to give y'all a day or two of trying to learn this little concept I'd like to call _Playing With the Team_ but seeing that I'm also invited to the annual Monkey Suit Fest, we'll have to reschedule that first thing Monday morning." There's a collective groan heard and with an evil glint in his eyes he adds, "I expect y'all to be here at the gym at five in the morning, sharp."

"Coach!" Tim whines.

"And if Smith here opens his mouth again, we'll add another hour of suicides for every syllable he utters."

I immediately whipped my head towards Tim who already has his mouth opened. He clamps it shut as soon as he sees me glaring at him.

"Good." Coach heaves a heavy, tired sigh. "Y'all can go. 'Cept for you two." He points at me and then at Lucas. Everyone quickly shuffles out of the locker room as Lucas and I share a look. I know why I'm getting a one-on-one but I'm not entirely sure what Lucas had done to merit the pleasure and the privilege. He looks just as a clueless as I am. Smirking a little, I lifted an eyebrow and turned towards him. "Must be about the errant jump shots." I whispered in a low voice, careful not to let coach hear me.

Lucas scowls at me and I roll my eyes at him. "I meant _my_ errant jump shots." I was trying to be sarcastic, since God knows I have no errant jump shots to speak of but I guess it did come out the wrong way. Lucas can be a little bit overly sensitive. Gotta remember that. "Lighten up, dude."

Lucas is looking at me like I'm speaking in another language. Shaking his head, sighing tiredly he mutters, "You know you could have gotten a triple-double tonight. You don't have to pass the ball to me if you don't want to, there's Tim or Vegas or –"

It's my turn to scowl at him. What the hell? Am I getting advice from Lucas on how to play _my_ game?

"You," Coach says, pointing at me, interrupting whatever it is that Lucas is about to say. "Don't listen to him, he doesn't know what he's saying and you," he then points at Lucas, "You wait outside the office, Nathan and I are going to have a little chit-chat."

I watch as Lucas stepped out of the office, bracing myself for whatever Coach has to say, which from the way he's looking at me, I can already feel, is a whole lot - like fifteen minutes a whole lot of me sitting there, listening as coach ranted and screamed at me. By the time I stepped out the office, my ears felt like it was suffering from internal bleeding or trauma. It's so unfair that by now coach would be too hoarse to yell at Lucas. Grumbling at the injustice of it all, I make my way out of the locker room, stopping dead in my tracks.

Well, here's a welcome sight for a weary player: Haley James standing by the exit, practically bouncing on the soles of her feet. She seems engrossed looking at all the trophies and team pictures encased in glass. I walk slowly towards her, smiling as soon as I get close enough to smell her subtle, delicately clean-almost floral, sweet scent. It's a welcome change to the usual rubber and sweat stink of the locker room. I can't stop the stupid smile spreading on my face. It is so good that we're finally back to being somewhat friends after that horrible argument. Although now, I have to stop calling Lucas ' _Puke-ass._ I have to be careful though, something tells me before the semester ends, I can bet you, she's going to make me call Lucas my brother. I shudder at the notion. Shaking my head, getting rid of that thought, I quietly sneak up behind her, bending my head a little so that my lips would be right beside her ears. "I like the skirt, James. Did you wear it for me?"

Haley lets out a startled gasp, half-jumping, half-stumbling as she turns around to glare at me, her cheeks flushed, hands clutching at her chest. She makes such an adorable picture. I raise my eyebrows at her, "Sorry if I scared ya, the skirt… your legs, it's just too distracting."

Haley narrows her eyes at me. "Why must you always say something that you know would annoy me?"

I grin at her, feeling my heart start up. "You don't know why?"

"If I knew, would I be asking you?" She replies without missing a beat.

"You really want to know?"

"Just spit it out, Scott."

"I like the way you look when I get you get all riled up." I answer with a shrug.

Haley pouts up at me. "I'm not even going to ask what that's supposed to mean."

"Good. You might slap me if I answer you."

"Very funny, Nathan." Haley switches back and forth from Scott to Nathan, depending on her mood and sometimes, the Scott is said with affection, probably more than she intends but I've always found it more pleasing to hear 'Nathan' slipping out from her lips. She says it differently. The first syllable always with a gentler, softer lilt to it. It's cheesy as fuck, but she makes my name sound almost musical.

"So what are you still doing here?" I ask, looking down at her.

"I'm waiting for Lucas." She informs me in a light, friendly tone.

"Of course." I mutter, trying my best not to sound sarcastic.

"And I, ugh," She flushes a darker shade of red before she clears her throat, "I wanted to tell you that you were great out there tonight."

I feel warmed by the sincerity of her voice. Smiling down at her, I take a small step forward, just a tiny, little step, barely discernable. I like it when I'm inside her personal space. When I'm surrounded by her scent. Although I think she doesn't necessarily feel the same, so I try to do it as subtly as I can. "Thanks."

Haley raises her eyebrows at me. "You don't sound so happy."

Wincing a little, I tell her that I just got chewed by Whitey.

She gives me a confused look, "What for?"

"Playing badly." I admit sheepishly, briefly looking down at the ground.

"But you scored like, sixty points."

Snorting softly, I bring my attention back to her face, the gentle curve of her smile, the now-familiar twist of her lips. "Twenty-one actually."

"Well, that's still a lot, right?" The baffled looks she's giving me is so endearing. I don't know if she knows it, but she has the most expressive face, so transparent and real and the play of her emotions so open. I think that's what I find so refreshing about her.

Sighing, I shake my head. "It's not it. I just… I didn't pass the ball around enough." I've always had a hard time admitting my faults, something that I've gotten both from my parents and something that coach always complained about. I mean it's not easy to admit that you're wrong, but with Haley and her openly, trusting sweet face, I just can't help but want to tell her everything. That's pretty dangerous. I mean, there are a lot of things that I don't want her to find out about me. Things that she'd definitely disapprove of and I don’t want to see that disapproving and disappointed look on her face.

Haley gives me a long searching look and then surprising me a little, she asks carefully, "Not to Lucas, you mean?"

I stare right back at her, her brown eyes alight with something that I can't quite grasp. "Yeah." I mumble softly, wincing a little. She had been paying attention to the game. Enough to have seen the obvious. I feel the slight tug of guilt, especially with her being so nice to me even after the fact that I basically screwed Lucas out of a good game.

"Well, Lucas did great too. He got, what, fifty points?"

Haley's large doe eyes stares up me, almost a little challengingly. I quickly swallowed the chuckle that automatically bubbled inside my throat. "Ten and what game were you watching, James?"

"The same game where you didn't give Lucas the ball?" Haley deadpans.

I rolled my eyes at her. "Okay, yeah, that's been established, thanks." I look away for a few minutes, distracted by the way she's looking up at me. I glance at her for a second, before awkwardly apologizing.

"You don't have to apologize to me. I mean, it's not like if you pass the ball to me I would've made the shot, you know."

I laugh loudly. Amazingly, Haley always has a way of making me laugh, even if sometimes, it's me that I'm actually laughing at. "Well I guess not."

"So, maybe next game then. You can give Lucas the ball when he's like, open or I don't know, near the goal." She tells me this in the same way she always does whenever we start talking about Lucas: gently, patiently. Like she knows that I'm capable of being kind to Lucas, I just need some time to figure out how. I think it's her way of encouraging me and, sometimes, I wonder why she never gives up. It's a daunting task, trying to bridge my world and Lucas's but Haley seems to be determined to fix things between me and Lucas. It's probably because she's realized something that Lucas and I haven't, I mean, since she's smart and all. Although I think it's just probably because she's the kind of person who just doesn't want to see anyone not getting along.

"Basket." I correct her. "Maybe you better watch again so you can remind me or something."

"Maybe." She bites her lips and it's her turn to briefly glace at the floor. "Anyway, is Luke gonna come out anytime soon?"

"Coach is still talking to him." A worried expression flits across Haley's face and I'm quick to reassure her. "He isn't in trouble of anything. I think coach just wants him to be more assertive." I shift my back pack over to my shoulder and we both hear the small tinkling sound. It's the little tin box Haley had given me this morning. Her little box of tricks. I hadn't had the time to open it up yet. I wanted to, as soon as she had handed out to me, but I didn't want anyone else watching me, it's something just between me and Haley. So I had kept it inside my bag, hadn't even thought of leaving it at my locker. It's just like her to have given me something for the history exam that I've been dreading. I really appreciated it. I mean, it may not seem much, but it's from her. That makes all the difference in the world. I shift my weight from the other foot and again, the light, muffled rattling sound echoes around us.

I watch as her eyes widen a little. She swallows slowly, keeping her huge, brown eyes on me. "So, ugh, do you know if it would it take long? I mean, I have all the time in the world to wait, it's not like I'm going anywhere else but it's kind of creepy waiting here, now that all the lights are like turned off and I'm basically half blind and Lucas never did say anything about having a post-game one-on-one with Coach Whitey," she pauses, frowns, "is that what you call it? Anyway, if I had known, I wouldn't have volunteered to wait up for him here, which is creepy by the way. Have I mentioned that? I think already did."

Chuckling a little, I bent my knees to be eye levelled with her. "Are you nervous?"

The blush on her cheeks quickly spreads downward and I have to remind myself not to follow it all the way down to her chest. Instead, I keep my eyes on her. "What, me? No. Of course not. Why would I be? I mean, are you? Nervous that is."

"Well, you're starting to make me."

Haley nervously tucks a lock of her hair behind her ears. "Sorry."

"You know, I heard you cheering for me." I tell her, trying to calm her down. Haley gives me a startled look, like she hadn't expected that I'd notice. I smirk at her. She _had_ yelled my name. My name. Not Lucas's. Not the very ambiguous 'Go Scott', but my name. I give her the same shit-eating grin that I had flashed her as soon as the final buzzer sounded off – about the exact time she had screamed: "Alright Nathan!"

"Everyone was like, cheering for you." She tells me after a few seconds, her expression somewhere between mischievous and slightly embarrassed.

"Well, yeah," I answer with a smug smirk and Haley rolls her eyes at me. "But I know your voice and you were definitely cheering for me."

"So what if I was. Is that such a crime?" She answers with a huff, ignoring the teasing tone.

"Not in my book, no." I pause to grin at her and when she smiled up at me, I couldn't help but blurt it out, "I really wish you could come over tomorrow night."

Haley looks confused for a second before realizing what I was talking about. "Oh, well. We've already gone over that."

"If only I can just skip the whole miserable affair. Maybe I can get out of it I tell my dad that I desperately need to be tutored."

"It can't be that bad." This time I can hear the concern in her voice seeping in.

"Are you kidding me? It's going to be worst night of my life." Okay, I'm exaggerating. But I like it when she's acting all concerned about me and to borrow Haley's phrase: is that a crime? And if it is, so sue me. I like the serious expression on her. Especially when her eyes are looking up at me that way.

"Nathan," Haley starts off, her voice soft, small. Tentative. She takes a step towards me, her hands reaching out. I take in a deep breath, holding it in, waiting for her skin to finally touch mine but the moment is shattered as another voice pierces through the silence.

"I hope you're not talking about the big event tomorrow night, son."

"Dad-" My heart gives a sickening lurch and I stiffen as dad approached us. I thought he had gone and left. What the hell is he still doing here? I take a step towards him, somewhat blocking him from Haley. I don't know why, but I really don't want my dad anywhere near her. Especially with the way he'd sometimes look at her, like she was someone… insignificant. Or like she was, I don't know, a distraction.

"Hello Mr. Scott." Haley politely greets, keeping her distance from my dad. There's nothing warm or welcoming in her voice, but nothing unkind about it as well.

"Ah, the famous tutor." My dad says, smiling broadly. "You know, my son just can't shut up about you, Ms.-" He trails off, frowning. I scowl at my father. What is he trying to do?

"James. Haley James." Haley fills in for him, her voice still as polite as ever, although I can sense that she's not going to put up with my dad any more than she has to. "We've met at your house a couple of days ago." She informs him at his blank stare.

Dad finally smiles. "Ah, yes. Sorry. I have a very bad memory. Of course it doesn't help that Nathan has all these girls coming over to the house, can't keep track of them."

"Dad!"

"I was just kidding." He tells Haley, adding a wink and I think for the first time in my life, for a split-second, I seriously considered knocking my dad out cold. I turn towards Haley, ready to apologize, to make her believe that I'm nothing like my father but she's already backing away.

"I'll uhm, better go wait outside." Haley tells us, giving my dad a quick, wary glance and then she turns her head, her eyes looking at mine directly, a small smile on her face, "I'll see you at school, Nathan."

I watch Haley walk away, disappearing into the hallway. "Nice going, dad." I tell my father, glaring at him.

"Nathan, Nathan, just when I thought you're finally taking things seriously by breaking up with Peyton, you're starting another thing with your tutor. And if you want to ask my opinion, I think you can do better than her."

Snorting loudly, smothering the sudden anger threatening to spill out, I give my dad a condescending smile. "And that is why I'll never ask for your opinion about anything other than basketball."

* * *

I just passed by dad’s trophy room and caught him giving me a look. He's not at all pleased that I'm walking around the house my shirt untucked, without a tie and with obvious disregard to what's happening around me. I just do not give a fuck anymore. The only good thing about this party is that it only happens once a year. Any more than that and I might just start really, seriously drinking.

I can think of a million better things to do. Like hanging out in my bedroom. Playing video games. Or sleeping. Or maybe even studying. Or, I can just get the hell out of here.

I wonder what are the odds of getting caught trying to leave the house. This night is just beyond hope. Rounding off the corner, a familiar honeyed-brown halo catches my attention.

Frowning, I stop dead in my tracks and do a double take. "Haley?"

She turns to look at me and I realize that it's just light hitting Haley's hair, but she looks so perfect underneath that light. In her jeans and shirt, her windblown brown hair, without a smudge of make up on her face, she's the prettiest girl inside the room: just pure and innocently beautiful. I feel my gut painfully clenching at the rush of something warm spreading throughout my chest.

She's here. Haley's here.

I can't believe she's here. I can feel my lips stretching into one of those huge, impossibly silly grins but I can't help myself. How is it that whenever I feel like there's just nothing else to look forward to, to be glad about, Haley James always waltzes in and literally brightens up everything? I mean, Jesus, I know that sounds like really fucked up, but there she is right now, blurting out something about cakes and I am just utterly, floored by her presence. Totally unexpected but definitely welcomed.

Tilting my head, smiling and desperately trying to calm my violently beating heart, I watch as she playfully waggles her finger at me, telling me that she's officially off duty tonight. I offer to get her a drink, hoping that I didn't sound too eager but probably failing miserably at it. I don't care though. I can't believe how happy I feel, seeing her, standing in front of me, her simplicity the only real thing in the room – in the whole house and I've never been so glad to see anyone in my whole life.

Things are definitely, finally looking up. This just might turn into something worth remembering.


	14. Personal Foul

**Chapter Fourteen** : Personal Foul

The one thing crystallized in my brain right now is the realization that Coach was right. The old geezer had one-upped me again. Figure that out.

Coach told us once that nothing in a basketball game ever goes as planned. You're lucky if you're able to read exactly how the other team will play the game. Very rarely will you ever get that insight and even when you do, still doesn't guarantee a win. Too many things going on – both inside and outside the court. There's no such thing as perfect game, a perfect play, a perfect defensive strategy, a perfect offensive plan, a perfect team, a perfect player (during this part, he makes it a point to stare hard at me).

Coach's golden rule: Only way to survive the game is to be prepared for the unexpected.

I've never truly believed his little theory. As far as I was concerned, basketball is _my_ game, I own it, just as I own everyone on the court. Things go my way. It was just a matter of me gaining control and making things work to my advantage, after all, hadn't I been told so many countless of times that I'm destined to have everything that I want?

Well, all that just went down the drain.

Stupid, freakin' everything.

Gritting my teeth, fist tightly clenched inside the pockets of my letterman jacket, I silently watch as Haley flipped the light switch off, the darkness surrounding her. In the pale, fading light, I can see the visible tear-stain tracks on her cheeks.

She's been crying. _I_ made her cry.

Well, technically, Brooke did but I still wince as an unnamed ache slowly settles and stays somewhere inside my chest. It'll grow roots there and I'll always relieve this night, forever regretting that I had made her cry.

"Haley…" I have a whole speech planned for this. I'm not kidding. I know I'm not the kind of guy who'd make speeches, you can even ask Peyton if you want, but at this point in time, I am not at all surprised that I'm a second away from making the speech for Haley James.

If only she'd listen.

I can feel my shoulders slumping as she retreats further away from me, keeping her head down as I call her again, wanting her, needing her to believe me. She doesn't spare me one glance and I have a feeling that I'll only make it worst if I start pounding on the glass door just to get her attention, just to get her to look back at me.

It takes her less than a minute to finally disappear into the empty café.

Wincing, I shuffle my feet around and take a deep breath. I'm not about to give up. Not just yet. _Never give up_. That's just one of my dad's many credos. One of the many that he had hammered inside my head. So despite the obvious hopelessness of my situation, I stubbornly stand guard by the door. Maybe she changed her mind. Maybe my broken-little-boy voice calling out her name, (still reverberating inside my head, by the way) had some effect on her. I mean, I know I used it a lot on Peyton to woo her back when I did something stupid that I really didn't mean and it always worked... so, _maybe_.

Knowing that I'd be painfully disappointed, I take deep breath before looking back into the darkened café, hoping to see her face, her brown eyes looking up at me.

I see nothing. Just impenetrable darkness.

_Nope. No maybe's for you tonight, Scott. She's gone. Face it, Haley's not going to fall for your stupid ideas on how to charm a girl and make her putty in your hand. I mean, what kind of an idiot are you to actually think that a girl like her – a nice, honest, wonderful, sweet, smart girl – would actually believe a jackass like you?_

I don't know where I had gotten the notion that she'd have a change of heart. Some girls, heck, a lot of girls, they like the silly, little chase. You know, when they tell guys that they want to be left alone when what they're really expecting is for you to be by the door, waiting for them like some sort of lap dog. Of course Haley isn't like one of those girls. I had seen it in her eyes; she had meant every word that she had said right before she left the party.

_"Stay away from me."_

But I can't just do that. I don't want to do that.

I briefly wonder if there's a back entrance to this place but even if there's one, she won't be coming out anytime soon. Not if she knows that I'll be waiting for her there. And if I force my way in the café, she'll definitely kick my ass.

Crap.

There has to be something that I can do. I can't just walk away and go home like nothing had happened, like my whole life is still what it used to be – because something had changed tonight. Something had been changing in the past couple of weeks and all of it has something to do with Haley James.

This is unbelievable. Haley's leaving me with no choice here. It's totally unfair. This isn't even my fault to begin with! Letting out a big sigh, cursing softly, I stand awkwardly in front of the one place I had vowed I'd never be seen anywhere near.

Well, now what?

I worriedly look around, noting the empty streets. I glance at my watch, wincing at how late it is. Haley can't go home alone at this hour. I won't let her. Snorting softly, I try to imagine what she'll do to me if I offered to give her a ride home. A world of pain would be in store for me, I can just imagine.

What a sad, miserable fucked up night this is. I can't even offer one lousy act of kindness.

I quickly jog back to the corner where I parked my car, safely tucked away in the dark. I don't exactly have a plan, but I do know that I'm gonna stay here until she comes out of that café and gets into a cab.

God, I hope she's not planning on walking home this late; the girl has a thing for long walks and if she decides to do just that, well then I'm gonna have to follow her on foot or something, make sure she comes home safely and if she doesn't call the police on me and report my stalking tendencies, then I'd be really, really thankful.

I patiently wait for about ten minutes before I finally see her re-appearing from the front door, the sound of little bells tinkling around her. In the soft glow of the street lights, Haley is even more beautiful than I remember. Her posture though, speaks volume. Her shoulders are slumped as she makes wary glances around before finally fishing out her phone inside her bag. She's about to make a call but is abruptly stopped by the sound of a truck approaching, the headlights pinning her on the spot. She looks up, startled.

It's Lucas.

I know it even before I can see the _Keith Scott Body Shop_ sticker at the side of the truck and the matching logo at Lucas's sweatshirt as he parks in front of the café and hops down, opening his arms wide as Haley jumps into his hug.

I'm watching all of these and my head feels like it's about to explode. It isn't jealousy. It's probably more to do with all the alcohol I have successfully consumed over the course of Dan's party – but still, the throbbing pain doesn't stop and I think it's the echo of the chorus of regret singing inside my brain.

I think I heard that exact line from one of Peyton's favorite songs. That or I'm starting to sound just like one of her emo bands.

Christ almighty, what is happening to me?

I keep my eyes glued on the truck, following it until it's nothing but blurry red and yellow lights. Gripping the steering wheel and looking out of the window, I let out a soft sigh. Well, at least I know she's okay – well, not okay as in okay since she looked far from okay, all thanks to me.

She's probably crying inside Lucas's truck and I can practically hear the one sided conversation that's going on right about now as Lucas tries to console Haley:

_"C'mmon, Hales, don't cry. Who needs Nathan Scott in their lives anyway? I mean, except for the high school basketball team? And maybe, Tim. Nobody, that's who."_

And Haley, all silent, sniffling softly, will realize that Lucas does have a point.

Motherfucker. Hadn't I been right all along? Dad's party is a total disaster. It's a nightmare I'll be relieving for the rest of my life. And as an icing on top of this little night of shit-fest, I realize that I have nowhere to go but back home. How fun.

I start the engine and head back to what I hope would be remnants of the party. I'll be really glad to find the house dark and deserted. It's past midnight and parent's aren't going to stay out no later than one in the morning, because, really, what kind of a role model will they be for their own kids if they end up partying way past the curfews that they've all determined for all of us? But then again, this is Tree Hill, not exactly the capital of Textbook Parental Care and Guidance.

Driving in silence, I can't help but think that there has to be something ironic about this night. I mean, this is one of the few times I'm actually telling the truth and what do I get for that?

That awful look of betrayal in Haley's eyes. God, I can't stand that look.

I'm now officially blaming it all on the plan. I did everything by the book, everything that I was sure would work and yet I ended up with something completely unexpected.

Liking Haley was definitely not part of the plan. Hurting her was never, ever part of the plan – and those two are exactly what had happened. Not the greatest combination at all.

Am I destined to do nothing but hurt the people that are even remotely, sincerely nice to me? And if that is so, then all is well in the world, since once again, Nathan Scott screwed up.

Since I can't strangle myself, then I think I'm more inclined to squeeze the life out of Brooke Davis.

* * *

It's a good thing I've calmed down during the long drive home because if I hadn't, I wouldn't have had the patience to carry a drunken, passed-out cold Brooke over my shoulder, haul her inside my car and drop her off at Peyton's.

"Well, well, Nathan Scott, do-gooder. Has hell frozen over?"

Peyton had always been supportive of my few good deeds. She makes it sound like she's mocking me but that's her style. Which I don't react to really well, FYI, I mean, if it hadn't been obvious enough.

"I'm surprised you just didn't leave her at…"

"Dad's trophy room." I answer with a grunt as I lowered Brooke into Peyton's bed.

"Ah." Peyton scrunches up her face, in confusion. She shakes her head, smirks up at me. "Your dad has a trophy room, who knew?" She quips easily. "We certainly never had sex there."

I give her an un-amused look. Peyton and her many quips. They're not all that witty as she thinks they are. I may have mentioned that during the course of our ill-fated relationship. Like maybe every day. I don't know, it seems as though the more I try to remember things from my relationship with Peyton, the more I forget.

"At least she made it indoors this time." Peyton adds as an afterthought, throwing a comforter across Brooke, whose only response is to groan out load and push a pillow unto her face.

I stare down at Brooke and her prone figure. Well, if this isn't an open invitation to smother her, then I don't know what is. "I would've left her to rot there." I inform Peyton, shrugging my shoulders and turning my attention back to her. "I just couldn't stand the sight of her."

I want to add that I felt an almost acute sense of pity for Brooke – for both of them – for all of us, actually, but it's been a long night and I just want it to end. Please, dear God. There must have been something vicious in my voice because Peyton's whole demeanor suddenly changes.

"I hope she didn't make too much of a mess." She tells me this in an almost apologetic voice.

Mess? Oh, no mess at all. To call it a mess would be too fuckin' kind. Sighing heavily, I remember the only highlight of my night: Haley James standing in front of me, her smile sweet, tentative, real and nervous.

She had just accepted my invitation with some degree of embarrassment, promising that she wasn't crashing the party and I wanted to tell her that even if she was I didn't mind.

I'm beyond happy that she had shown up. I had been so stupid the other morning and the night after the basketball game, I should've just invited her over, it didn't matter to me if she wasn't part of the cheering squad or that she didn't know the difference between a touchdown and a basket.

I've never felt like such a spineless jerk.

I flash on the scene I had been replaying inside my head. I had just offered to get her a drink, wanting to make her feel at ease so that she wouldn't ever think of leaving, so that she would want to stay with me until the very last second of this seemingly unending suckfest, but of course, Brooke just had to screw it all up.

I can still hear the mocking syrupy-sweetness dripping on her voice: _"You two are adorable. You know, Tutor Girl's love note you passed around."_

Haley's withering glare as she told me to stay away from her is forever stamped inside my brain.

"It's Brooke." Is the only answer I can give and I guess it's enough of an answer as Peyton bites her lips and nods her head. If there's anyone who understands the destructive force that is Drunken Brooke, it's Peyton. Their friendship is about as stable as the marriage of my parents.

"It can't be that bad, right?" Peyton asks after a few heartbeats and I think maybe she's thinking of Lucas. She has that faraway look in her eyes.

I clench my jaws and shrug my shoulder. There are not enough words to tell Peyton how bad things are right now. I can still see Haley's brown eyes, darkened with tears and her silent resolve as she walked away from me. "It's a train wreck."

Peyton visibly flinches. She swallows slowly before asking, "How's Haley doing?" The question doesn't take me by surprise. I don't have to wonder how Peyton found out. Any scene involving Brooke at the party is prime gossip material, although the sudden reproachful tone throws me off a bit. I roll my eyes at her. She had been flirting with Lucas all night, exchanging agonizingly long painful, not-so-secret glances and now she's giving me shit for this? She gives me that 'I-warned-you-not-to-mess-up-with-her' look and the unvoiced accusation stings. Peyton thinks she has it all figured out: I'm the bad guy in all of this.

We stand there glaring at each other and I think I know what this is all about. She's angry at Brooke, I'm angry at Brooke. Brooke is passed out, where else to put all that anger?

Avoiding her eyes, I find myself looking tiredly down at tonight's bringer of doom. I have to throttle the sudden urge to shake Brooke awake and ask her: what the hell is your problem?

There are limits, you know. Of course, Brooke never cared about those. I remember how she had stared up at me as soon as Haley walked out of the door, rolling her tongue inside her mouth, raising her eyebrows, as though challenging me to actually do something.

Brooke's has always been like that. Always flaunting her absolute disregard to everyone's feelings. And hadn't I been acting exactly the same way as her? I think it's ten times worst when you start feeling disappointed at your own self.

_"Game's getting old Brooke."_

It would be so much better if someone had a whistle to end all of these stupid, little games we're playing. That'll be so convenient.

Brooke's little stunt? Huge personal and technical foul. She would've gotten ejected out of the game by now. I give her once last glare. "As soon as she wakes up, tell her I said congratulations. She's really good with ruining people's lives."

Peyton shakes her head, looking tired and I suddenly want to ask her about Lucas and Haley and if she had ever found herself wishing, maybe… I don't know, if we could have the thing that we wanted the most, what would it be?

I stare into her eyes and realize that I wouldn't know what she'd want. And she definitely wouldn't know what I want either, judging by the blank look she's giving me.

"I'll let her know." Peyton mumbles, looking away. "Thanks for taking care of Brooke."

"Whatever." And then I'm out of the door and back on the road again. At this hour, it is empty and quiet. It fitted my mood perfectly.

* * *

I barely slept last night. All I did was stare up at the ceiling, my head going on endless little circles as I clutched Haley's note inside my hand. I was real careful not to crumple it or anything, which was hard since I’ve read it like a hundred times over. And every time I did, I can feel my chest constricting painfully.

I can just imagine what she felt when Brooke recited her words, carelessly throwing it for everyone else to hear. No wonder she was pissed. And she had thought I had passed it around, laughing at her.

Haley was being kind and honest and supportive and that was what she got, a resounding, humiliating slap in the face, courtesy of Brooke Davis. And I just stood there like an idiot.

I can't help but cringe. There has to be a way to undo whatever it is that Brooke has done. I want to make things right with Haley. I have to. I can't just let her cut herself out of my life. And more than that, I need her to know that I would never intentionally hurt her. I need her to know how much I regret that she ended up getting hurt. And that I'd do anything she tells me, just to see her smile that same wonderful, soft sweet smile and tell me that she forgives me. That we're okay.

And like all the rest of the other nights before, I finally thought about _just_ Haley James.

I guess I can be a bit of a moron 'cause it took me this long to finally figure it out. I know I like her I just didn't realize how much. I couldn't admit it then. All those times that I had spent with her and how much of my time I had spent wishing I could be with her.

Tutoring only takes about an hour and a half and we don't even meet every day, which means that most of the time, while doing basketball drills and hanging out with Tim and the rest of the guys, all I had been doing was wishing I was with Haley.

I don't want to not be able to spend time with her. I've grown accustomed to seeing her blush and hearing her laugh and watching her as she quietly studied with me or rambled on about a topic she feels passionate about.

I thought about how much patience she has and how many chances she had given me, even though I didn't deserve it. I thought about how she'd always listen to me, her brown eyes honest and gentle. I thought about how I like spending my mornings with her. Mostly, I just thought about how nice it would be if she could be a permanent fixture in my life. Not just as a tutor. Maybe even more than a friend.

I also kinda thought about the many ways to get Brooke Davis out of Tree Hill, like forever, although I doubt her parents would actually agree to ship her off somewhere far, like Alaska or something.

Anyway, I must have drifted off to sleep and when woke up, I still had Haley's note inside my hand. I read it again, and I don't know if it was because of the morning light filtering inside my room but the words suddenly took on a different meaning and like a swift, sweet kick in the head I realized I wanted to see Haley right away. Right that very moment.

The first thing I did was call her (I had to look for my phone first, ‘cause I think I actually threw it all across the room last night) but she wouldn't answer. She kept dropping my calls. And dammit, she wouldn't even let me leave her a voicemail! And that sucks, 'cause it can only mean one thing: she’s still pissed off.

I was hoping that she would've calmed down by now, at least to just hear me out.

Well, she can be mad at me all she wants, I'll give her that, heck, I owe here that but I'm not going to give up that easily. Oh, hell no. I'd be a real shithead if I did. I finally found the girl worth losing sleep over with. I wasn't going to let her go just like that. Without a goddamn fight. And so in a moment of blinded courage and hope, I called her house.

Of course, because nothing is going to work my way ever, at least when it comes to Haley James, her mom picked up.

For the record, I've never had to deal with parents before, I mean except for mine and I can already tell you how I suck at that. I haven't even met Peyton's dad and I have a strange feeling that Mr. Sawyer doesn't know of my existence, which was fine with me, it's not like I cared, I never really had to. And suddenly there I was, on the phone with Mrs. James, trying to remember how to be polite.

"Oh, hello Mrs. James. It's ugh, me, Nathan Scott. Haley's tutoring me, yes. Oh, you remember, cool. I'm good, thanks for asking. Sorry to call so early, I hope I'm not bothering you, I just want to know if Haley's there. I'd really like to speak to her. Oh, okay. Well, uhm, would you happen to know where she might be? It's real important that I talk to your daughter."

I had to wince at the last part, because, really, ' _your daughter'_? Like she doesn't know that already? The conversation had been painful to say the least but it was a small price to pay since her mom did tell me where Haley'll be.

I think I might have slammed the phone down on her ( _crap_!). I didn't mean to, but I was just really raring to go and find Haley.

* * *

I don't ever remember having to wake up and wanting to apologize this badly. That says a lot, considering the many mean and sucky things I did to Peyton when we were dating. Everything with Haley James is just different. And if I have to learn how to be polite and courteous and man enough to admit mistakes and apologize, then that's the guy I'm gonna have to be.

I just hope she'd give me a chance to show her that. To prove it to her.

So hanging out at some small music store trying to work up the courage to talk to Haley James, is not my best moment. Why can't I just a win a game for her and everything can go back to normal? How about I score forty points in one game.

Every point would be a heartfelt: _"I'm sorry."_

Every free throw a: _"Please forgive me."_

And every tomahawak dunk, which I'm especially good at, will be a sincere confession: _"I like you."_

That sounds like a perfectly good idea. Except, it's real lame since what, I'm supposed to tell Haley to watch out for the tomahwak dunks? And does she even know what a tomahawk dunk is?

I let out an explosive sigh, glaring at everyone who'd dare glance my way. What the fuck is taking them so long? Lucas and Haley can't be going through all the records? Unless they somehow saw me out here and they're trying to avoid me. Which is pretty paranoid of me so, shit, I'm coming in.

Taking a deep breath, shoving my hands into my jacket, I saunter in, no need to let Haley know how my heart is insanely banging against my rib cage. Gotta keep it cool, you know.

It's Lucas who sees me first and okay, I am silently applauding the guy for just walking away and letting me talk to Haley. He has every right to get in my face and ask me to leave Haley alone. Sometimes, Lucas can be kind of okay. As long as he's not meddling in my business, that is.

I gotta tell you, I never hesitate. I always know what I want and how to get it. I take. That's what I do. But with Haley, with her not looking at me, her eyes downcast, her face unreadable, so totally closed off, I have that distinct shrinking feeling.

I can't explain it. I guess it's probably guilt and shame, a real intense hangover and a bad case of butterflies all rolled into one. I shift my weight from one foot to another, feeling even more out of place. I think I finally breathed a sigh of relief when Haley told me that she believed me. It's all that I needed to hear.

"So, we're cool?"

Haley looks at me, her brown eyes sad and disappointed and she shakes her head. "No we're not cool."

I swallow down, my throat closing up and for the second time of my life, I stand there like a complete idiot as Haley tells me that she's done.

Done. With me, with us. Just done.

The word hangs between us, heavy and final. The resignation, the determination in her voice was just too… I don't know what or how to call it. Actually, I don't even know what I'm feeling right now.

Well, yeah, I do know and this feels a lot worse than losing a game. And for a moment, I think of how silly high school basketball games are, compared to this, at least. Getting your heart stamped on. Or something equally painful.

The unbelievable had happened. Haley James had given up.

I guess that only means one thing: I'm really not worth being saved or whatever it is that she's capable of doing.

I stood there, blankly looking at the CD's, all those band names swirling inside my head and all I can think of was: she believes me but it doesn't mean shit, especially if she's never going to talk to me anymore.

Game over, Scott.

* * *

Brooke Davis dropping by at our place: not a good sign.

Brooke Davis apologizing: it's a sure precursor of the Apocalypse.

I am so not in the mood for this kind of shit. Which is why I ended up being really harsh about a lot of things, mainly about her drinking. And I may have given her a hard time, which, in my opinion, she totally deserves but since she's confident that I have some sort of date with Haley tonight, all thanks to her, then okay, I guess I can find it in my heart to not kick her out of the usual Jock-Cheerleaders lunch table. It's damned petty, I know, but I figure it's the only thing that she actually, honestly cares about.

I would have been happier though if Brooke would finally leave me alone. She's just supposed to tell me what time I should meet up with Haley but instead I'm getting a headache just listening to her over at the phone.

"What do you mean ' _she didn't say yes exactly_ '? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

It's a good thing I'm not lifting weights anymore or I might as well have dropped it and hurt myself. Dad wouldn't like that. The equipment is worth a lot. And so would my hospital bill. Plus, what the fuck would he need an injured player for? Scowling darkly at the thought, I stalk towards the kitchen and grabbed myself a Gatorade.

Blue Gatorades always make me feel better.

"Well, Nate, it's like this: she didn't say 'No' but she didn't say 'Yes' either."

And there's that annoying, amused tone in Brooke's voice. Like she's laughing at some joke she isn't going to share but she'll laugh right on ahead just to piss you off. "Kind of like you, when I talked to your earlier."

I grimaced. Well, I just had the worst conversation in my entire life and I was trying to work out my anger and frustration. I was ambushed. Brooke's un-drunken, somber presence alone was enough of a surprise. And besides, I wasn't exactly thinking clearly.

I mean, I could honestly say that I didn't want Brooke meddling with anything that has got to do Haley – in fact, I don't want her anywhere near Haley – but what’s the point? I've already accepted the fact that Haley would never talk to me again, but I also kind of figured that Brooke never would've taken 'No' for an answer. I was also hoping that Brooke wouldn't take her 'appeasing the gods of Karma' crap seriously.

It's Brooke, her attention span is shorter than the average attention span of a two year old and alright, alright, I should have said something.

"I still haven't said 'Yes' either." I remind her. Too late. As always. But still.

"Don't be such a wuss, Scott."

I can clearly picture her rolling her eyes and I have to remind myself that Brooke is still doing me a favor. Sort of. Anyway, if this little scheme of her fails, it'll give me a good enough reason to douse her car with gas and light it up.

"Worst case scenario, you'll end up getting dumped but you'll survive. It's not like it had never happened to you before." She lets out a cough which suspiciously sounds like "Peyton."

"You're threading on thin ice Davis." I mutter darkly before changing the subject back to Haley, "What did she say?"

A slight pause. Enough to make my stomach painfully clench and unclench. Hopefully, Haley hadn't said anything like: _Tell Nathan to go to hell._ As long as those six words weren't uttered, then I still have some hope.

"Nothing." I can somehow hear the ‘couldn’t care less shrug’ in her voice.

"Nothing? She said nothing?" Well, shit, that can't be good.

"Well, not _nothing_. She did say she wanted to watch me get hit by a bus, which I thought was pretty sassy of her."

I feel my face falling into a frown. I really am stupid. Of course Haley wouldn't be happy about seeing Brooke. She probably thinks that Brooke and I are in cahoots, making fun of her or worst, planning something hurtful. "Brooke, I don't think this is a good idea-"

"Nathan, relax. Look, you want the girl. I have the means and the ways, so you just sit back there and lift weights or something. Be ready by seven-ish." And before I can say anything else, Brooke had already hanged up.

Frowning, I tried to convince myself that everything will be fine. After all, if there's one thing that all the privileged brats that Brooke and I are good at, it's convincing ourselves that in the end, we'll always get what we want.

Right?

* * *

I've been sitting all day waiting for that goddamn phone call. Brooke said she was going to call with the details of the date and it's nearly seven.

Well, okay maybe not really nearly, (it's five past four, I think) but dammit, I'm pressed for time and it's just now that I'm realizing that I didn't want Brooke planning the whole date, since first of all, the girl cannot keep her word and more importantly, God knows the date would probably involve, if not a strip club, then maybe a beer keg in the middle of nowhere or worst, a combination of both. If she comes up with anything like the dates that she'd been bragging about, I really am going to choke her.

She finally doesn't call but shows up at my doorstep, around five, by which time, if I'm going to be honest about it, I've come close to yanking the hair out of my head. I guess it’s so obvious because Brooke greets me with an incredibly happy, self-satisfied smile.

"What the hell, Davis, where have you been?" I run my hand against my hair. So this is how it feels like, going on a date. I've never been on a like a serious sit-down dinner date before. Peyton and I never made time for that. We didn't need it and I certainly didn't think she wanted to, anyway.

"Shopping inspires me, Nate. And if it weren't for that black top, I would have never come up with the best plan for the best date ever."

Plan? Did she say plan? _Fuck_ plan! I've had enough of that. Why can't it just be a regular date? Movie, dinner, that sort of thing? I don't want to do anything that has the word "plan" on it. It's certifiably jinxed.

"Nathan, the girl is like, totally pissed at you. And euw, movie and dinner? Seriously? I mean, God, Peyton said you were severely lacking in the dating department, but really, this is so much worst!"

I send Brooke a glare and a mental one for Peyton. Girls just can't shut up about personal things. I cross my arms against my chest, looking down at her with what I hope is a mixture of contempt and weariness. "I'm sorry my idea of a 'date' doesn't include drunken one-night stands."

Brooke bursts out laughing, muttering something about pots and kettles. She rolls her eyes at me. "You gotta do something memorable, Nate. And I don't mean sex. Otherwise, you can kiss your chances with Tutor Girl goodbye."

"Her name's Haley." I remind her through gritted teeth. "And I can do memorable. How does me, pushing you on the street and making sure that you'd get hit by a bus, sounds?"

"Cute." Brooke bites out as she forcefully pushes me out of her way, heading straight to the den, dropping a stack of sealed envelope on top of dad's desk. "Think Amazing Race, Nathan." She announces, raising her both her eyebrows, smiling up at me. "Only more romantic."

I give her a blank look. Brooke watches that show. Of course. All the drama and the cat fights, I'm sure she live for that stuff. Although, I have to admit, her idea isn't as lame-assed as I thought it'll be. It sounded promising enough but what if Haley thinks that it's stupid and not worth her time? I mean, running around town, hunting down clues and God knows what else Brooke has thought of, it just doesn't seem like an ideal date to me.

Groaning out load, I shake my head. I can't believe I'm being such a goddamn pussy about this. But I have one shot of redeeming myself in Haley's eyes and letting Brooke do this whole serial-date thing, well, I'm starting to have doubts.

I pick up one of the sealed pink envelopes, immediately cringing at the sight of Brooke's lousy handwriting. The number one is written with stars and flowers all around it.

_Yeah, Nathan Scott, welcome to the world of the pansy assed. Enjoy your stay._

I can feel my face twisting up in an ugly grimace, just thinking of what might be written inside.

"Everything is PG rated, okay, if that's what you're worried about." Brooke frowns, tilts her head as though remembering something important. "Well, except for one thing,"

"What one thing?" I start off, grinding my teeth.

"It's fun and sexy and you're going to thank me later for it." She adds a wink, which does nothing to reassure me at all.

"I seriously fucking doubt it."

Brooke raises her eyebrows at me, smiles sweetly. "No swearing Nate or she's not going to buy this whole, 'I'm cleaning up my image for you' shit."

I feel my eyes narrowing. Of course Brooke thinks this all a game to me. Should I be surprised by this, at all? People are always going to think that I have some sort of nefarious agenda. I'm always out to get the nice girl. I need to scam the nice girls to get them to my bed me and leave them there in the morning. How else have I gotten the Jackass of the Year title, right? Feeling more than a little bit pissed, I take a step towards Brooke. "Get out." I tell her, not so gently shoving her towards the door.

Brooke calmly places a hand against my chest trying to push back, rolling her eyes. "I was just kidding. I mean, I'm all for the positive changes Nate, we all need that."

I forget that Brooke hasn't been called a Relentless Bitch for nothing. She picks up the stack of envelopes, gives me a huge grin before flicking the envelope I'm currently holding. It snaps against my eyes and I swear to God, I am just an inch away from hitting the girl. I mean, she did hit me first, right? That makes it fair. "Davis-"

"Don't bring your car, Nate. Remember, long walks are like, magic, it always works. And, oh, I think I've mentioned this before, but TG's really, really – like _really_ – pissed, so you might want to wear something blue. It brings out your eyes and trust me, those baby blues, they help a lot."

"Brooke, seriously, get out."

She flashes me a huge smile before stepping out of the door. "You're welcome, Nate! Enjoy your date. Don't do anything stupid."

I slam the door on her face.

I take a deep breath as I leaned heavily against the door, the envelope still clutched inside my hand. It's this or nothing. And if this doesn't change anything, at least I got to spend one more night with Haley. I think maybe I can live with that. Just as long as I constantly drink myself to oblivion.

Sighing, and this is cheating by the way, I slid the paper out of the envelope, read the instruction and cursed Brooke Davis for all eternity.

_Well, Scott, time to bring out the big guns in the Charm Department. You're gonna need your A Game._

Brooke mentioned something about wearing blue. I think I can manage that.


	15. The Five Second Violation

**Chapter Fifteen** : The Five Second Violation

So this is it. Date. Or not really date _date_ – at least maybe not to Haley. I should probably ask her, just to be clear. She has that slightly-nervous, pre-occupied look. Her mouth is twisted in a sort of smile-grimace. I can tell that she's none too pleased at how quickly I got her to agree with this whole thing. Right now, she's walking slightly ahead of me, arms around herself and can you blame me if I still have the nagging feeling that she isn't taking this seriously?

At least not as seriously as I am, because, Jesus Christ, this is _serious._ I don't ever remember being on a proper date. Ever.

There's like protocols about this stuff right? I mean, since she agreed and all, I assumed it would be okay if I walk a little bit closer to her, especially since I've spotted a few guys glancing her way. It isn't like I'm worried or anything. They had all quickly averted their eyes when I glared at them but I want them to know too that I am actually _with_ her. Haley is totally not helping. Every time I'd sort of sidle up closer to her, close enough that her shoulders would brush against my arms, she'd make small noises at the back of her throat before sidling _away_ from me.

I try it again, after all I am nothing but persistent. Her shoulder grazes against my jacket and I am momentarily fascinated by how warm she feels, even if we aren't even touching skin-to-skin. I can feel my face burning up a little, my heartbeat starting to race. I press myself closer and then she makes that small noise again. It sounds like a cute, annoyed little Haley-" _harrumph!_ "

I take a quick step back as she looks up to glare at me. Persistent, also synonymous to pushy. Okay, I have to remember that one. And because I've been known to thoughtlessly open my mouth and do stupid things, I boldly turn to her, stepping closer, slightly nudging her shoulder. "So just you and me, James, on a date. What do you think about that, huh?" I croon at her, lowering my voice, wiggling my eyebrows and giving her a lopsided grin.

Haley gives me a vaguely suspicious look. I can feel my grin becoming a sort of grimace as she scowls at me. Man, why can't I get this Don't Be Flippant and Cocky with Haley James Rule down?

"I think you're bound to do something…" she pauses, searching for the right word, "funny."

The way she said it makes me cringe. She obviously doesn't mean it in a 'you're so hilarious, I love all your jokes' way. Not that I actually have jokes to tell. Nor will I ever tell jokes. So lame. Well, okay, maybe if she asks me to. Anyway, shaking my head, I promised her that this isn't some sort of game.

"This isn't like that." I added, attempting to sound indignant even though I kind of understand why she'd think that way. I know I'm sort of a jock-slut, as Brooke would often call me, but it's not like I've slept with the whole female population of Tree Hill High and the occasional nearby towns. I'm digressing. So, yeah girls would end up in my bedroom, sure, but it didn't end up in sex all the time. If people think that's how it always went down, who am I to argue with them? My point is I don't want Haley to know that or to even think that.

Probably a lost cause, I know, but I have to try.

"This is… different…" I try to gauge her reaction but I can't read the expression on her face. Fumbling, stumbling for words, God I hate this crap, I never had the talent for saying the right things. "You're not just some girl, Haley." I tell her as an explanation. I figured it should work. Succinct, straight to the point. Honest.

The way she's looking at me makes it clear that I am not making any sense.

"You know I wouldn't do that you." It's the only thing that I can say because it's the only thing that I can truly promise her. I meant every word of it.

Her right eyebrow arches up a notch higher. "Do I?"

"Of course, Haley… I'm-"

But then she adds in an almost teasing tone, her voice low, "-scared that I'll kick your ass?"

I blink at her, my ears perking up a little at the change in her tone. Always so unpredictable. If it'll take me a whole lifetime to figure out Haley James, I'm going to be definitely okay with that. I think I might even have fun with it. "Oh so now, you're giving me attitude?"

She juts her chin out, looks up at me with those brown eyes, challenging me. She looks intimidating when she does that. Sort off. The image doesn't hold because she's small and fragile looking. Well, not fragile in a breakable sense, more like… I don't know, gentle. Like something you'd instinctively hold carefully, because it's the only way to hold it.

"I'd like to see you try." I tease her.

"Give me a reason and you just might." She turns towards me, wagging a finger in front of my face, inches away from my nose. She doesn't seem to be aware of the fact that she had stepped up closer, her chest very slightly, very lightly brushing against mine.

And man, my heart just about flips over as all my recent fantasies of submissive, quiet, demure, _gentle_ Haley James suddenly dissolves and shifts to a more dominant, more in control Haley James.

It's impossible to keep track of how I see Haley. One moment she's gentle and soft and the next she's all… _rawr_.

I think that's what I like the best about her. Haley isn't like all those one-dimensional girls who always insist on hanging out with the basketball team. Spend an entire hour with them, sometimes even less and you know everything about them. Haley has a thousand sides to her. And I want to discover them all.

Also, it doesn't escape me, the irony that I am having sinful, inappropriate thoughts about Haley inside my head while I am trying to convince her that I am a good guy. I'm seventeen, I have no excuse. I can't help it. And just as I can't help having all those NC-17ish thoughts about her, I also I can't help it if I am wearing my best eat-shitting grin as I held up both of my hands in a gesture of surrender.

"No funny business." I tell her, looking down at her small figure, bending down a little so we could be somewhat eye levelled. She gives me another forehead-scrunched up look as I try to calm my overly excited heart. Or hormones. Or I don't know, maybe they're both working together, finally. Of all the time to do this!

 _Fuckin' traitors_!

"Okay." Haley, finally says, letting out a cute little sniff, a pleased smile touching her lips. "Then I guess I can enjoy the absurdity of this whole date."

Her eyes twinkle – yeah, I know, it sounds really stupid, but her eyes totally do that twinkling thing, I swear! – and I actually feel happy about it. And if you call me pansy, then I dare you to stand before Haley James and her bright, happy smile. Let's see how _you'd_ feel. Plus, it isn't just that. She said the words " _enjoy_ " and " _date_ " all in one sentence. That sounded promising. Although… I tilt my head towards her, shoving my hands into my pocket. "I wouldn't really call this absurd." I didn't see why it should be. Even if I have no idea what I'm doing, everything feels natural, right. Even the awkward moments were still kind of nice.

Haley lets out a peal of laughter which pleases me to no end, even though technically, I wasn't really trying to be funny. "Are you kidding me?" She asks once giving me that twisted-mouth, eyes-scrunch up look. "You and me…" and then she trails off, the carefree expression on face instantly replaced by that familiar startled, anxious look, like she's just remembered something or had just swallowed something icky.

I know that look. She always gets that look after we've exchanged a banter that's almost near flirting. It's the I-just-remembered-I'm-Lucas's-loyal-bestfriend-look.

And now I get the whole absurd thing.

As though reading my mind, she quickly looks away, staring straight ahead. This look is even more familiar. The I Can't Believe I'm With Nathan Scott Look of utter incredulity-slash-confusion.

I know I'm not supposed to know any sort of _look_ , but whatever, right now, at this very moment, I feel like every little thing she does is familiar to me. Like for instance, the way she's frowning, it's clear that she's still trying to figure out what exactly is going on right here.

I silently watch as she tugs on the cuffs of her jacket, hands closed into tiny little fists. I'm always amazed at how small her hands are. I've seen her do so many things with that little hands of her: carefully holding her piping hot cup of coffee (caramel macchiato, upside down, extra hot), writing notes all over my books, nervously drumming it against the table on the docks, sometimes mindlessly strumming when she thinks I'm not watching her, casually tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ears, playfully swatting me on the shoulders. All those little things and those little hands of hers, always so busy and wonderfully small and delicate.

I have to curb the sudden urge to grab her hands and tell her that I know exactly what it feels like. This terribly painful fluttering somewhere in the pit of my stomach. It's been there since this morning when Brooke had dangled the idea of a date with Haley. It's supposed to feel like butterflies or so I'm told. Damn the idiot who started that whole 'butterfly in the stomach' thing. Complete, utter bullshit. What it really feels like is a million little teeth gnawing at my insides. Not so romantic now, is it?

Although when I think about how I only feel that strange stomach thing with Haley, it kinda makes it a little bit romantic. How weird is that? Anyway, there must be a better way to tell her exactly how I'm feeling right now. Million teeth gnawing at my stomach, not what a girl would like to hear. That at least I'm certain of.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised at all that I can't even tell her how I feel. It's been a proven fact at how much I suck with words. And I can't just tell her that right at this very second how my hands are painfully clenching and unclenching into nervous, angry fists, groping for something to tell her. Something funny. Something that will make her want to look at me, instead of starting ahead, not even sparing me a single glance.

For a brief second, I entertain the idea of showing her my open palms, that way, she'd see the pathetic little moon-like marks and oh God, fuck me, little moon-like marks? That was horrible. I shuddered a little. I can't believe I thought of that. I shake my head at the brief moment of insanity.

I glance at her. Maybe that's what's annoying her. If we both can't say it out loud – this thing, whatever it is, between us – then how can we defend it to Lucas who I know for a fact will raise hell over this.

But how do I explain this to her? That I like her and that liking her has nothing to with Lucas, even if it sort of began that way and by the time I'd finished explaining everything, she would have already walked away, disgusted with me and my hare-brained plots.

I rack my brains, trying to think up of what to say. Alarm bells are going off inside my head. Quick, change the topic. Talk about something else. The awkward heavy silence is going to ruin the moment!

"Hey, look, I ugh, I still have to tell you one more thing that I like about you."

This effectively startles Haley out of her reverie. She looks up at me, bites her lips and pins me with her eyes. God, I can't concentrate while she's looking at me like that.

I clear my throat, thinking fast. Okay, right, so I've already given her two and there are still, hm, let me think; yeah roughly, about a million other. Unfortunately all of them would sound really stupid. At least, all of them sound stupid inside my head. I'm not Mr. Eloquent. I'm a man of few words. I can't spew off romantic lines to impress girls. I just normally tell them that they look hot and usually it does the trick.

Not that Haley doesn't look hot tonight. In fact, I'd say she's smoking. In that innocent, cute way of hers and I am struck again by the fact that she seems to be so unaware of how pretty she is, which makes her even more… _hot_.

I _was_ going to say that as the third thing that I like about her but the moment I opened my mouth to tell her, I just… well, I just didn't know how to say it without coming off like some typical, mindless, trite over-used compliment. Not to mention she'd probably take it the wrong way. This is a little bit more complicated than I realized.

 _Say something, asshat._ I open my mouth and then closed it again. Sometimes, I think I am like my dad. I am too hard on myself and my inadequacies – which are few, but which are the ones that really count.

But the really fucked up thing? I think I am slightly enjoying this. This kind of a pleasure-pain thing. Like a wonderful torture. Being so out of my game. Not being in total control of the situation, not knowing what I'm supposed to say or do. It's strangely, comfortingly new. And of course, a little exciting too. Like small doses of adrenaline rush.

I take another ridiculous quick glance over at Haley.

She's not saying anything, obviously waiting for me to say something. I take a deep breath, suddenly stopping. She's about a step ahead of me when she realizes that I'm no longer walking besides her. She stops mid-step, turning to look at me. "Nathan?

"I… how about we add one more to the list. Make it four instead of three."

Haley blinks up, surprised but she nods her head. "Okay."

Well, here goes. "I like the way how you sometimes make feel nervous."

The arched eyebrow rises to new heights. " _I_ make _you_ nervous?" She says this like it's the silliest thing in the world that she has ever heard.

I roll my eyes, feeling my face suddenly going warm. "Not like, _all_ the time. I mean, sometimes, yeah. You make me feel really…" I stop, frowning at how I manage to get myself into these kinds of situations.

"Nervous?" Haley offers helpfully, her brown eyes alight with something familiar and mysterious all at the same time.

I let out a small cough of a chuckle. "Yeah. That."

And a lot more. A hell of a lot more. But yeah, thank fuck I have enough sense to not say _that_ out loud.

"Hmmmm." Haley says after a second, turning around and resuming her walk. I quickly catch up with her. "Well, that's… interesting." She gives me a crooked smile, "And the last one?"

Easy. I've thought about this from the very start and it's time I let her know. "Your loyalty. To Lucas."

She thinks about this for a whole second, the contemplative expression on her face has that weird calming effect on me. Well, a little. I can still feel slightly unnerved by all these sudden honesty. I don't think I've ever been this honest this much.

She nods her head after a while, twisting her mouth in a smile that isn't really that pretty, but it's genuine and oddly enough, comforting. I let her ponder on for a few more seconds before finally getting impatient. I can't help it. Patience has never been my strong suit and it will never be. Not unless it can be surgically implanted. And not that I'd lined up once they'd figure out how to inject virtues.

I nudge her shoulders again. "Well, it's your turn."

"What?" Haley asks, looking slightly confused.

"Your turn. Three things you like about me."

"Just three?"

"I have all night to listen if you have more than three."

"You are so modest."

I shrug my shoulders. "I try."

"Well," I watch as Haley quietly chews on her lower lips, "I'd like to follow the rules. So…"

It's taking her a little longer than I expected to think up of at least three things that she likes about me. I frown at this, digging my hands deeper into the pocket of my jeans. How hard can it be? Three things. I mean, I can tell three things I think girls will like about me in two seconds flat and there she is forehead creasing, eyes downcast, clearly thinking about it.

"My good looks?" I offer her. Hey, I can be pretty helpful.

Haley looks up at me, rolling her eyes. It's a little hard to tell, but I can sense that she's giving me a very dirty look.

I give her a smug, charming Scott grin. "'Cmmon, say it, you like my hot body don't you?"

Her eyes sparkle as she narrows it into tiny little slits although the wonderful blush on her cheeks had effectively just betrayed her.

I laughed out loud. I think I might actually thank Brooke Davis for this night.

* * *

So there's this thing in basketball they call the Five Second Violation.

This particular violation shouldn't be a problem for players who knows their game, what they're next move would be, or as Coach would often say, "if you've just listened during the huddle instead of making googly-eye with your girlfriend!" Although last week, it had been, "with your tutor!"

Anyway, the Five Second violation occurs when a player, while closely guarded, holds the ball for five seconds.

Okay, let me back track here, I'm seeing confused faces. First off, a closely guarded situation is when a player with the ball in the frontcourt is continuously guarded by an opponent – annoying as fuck, I know, but it’s part of the challenge of the game – within 6 feet of the player in control. Anyway, the refs continues the five-second count until the player in control gets their head and shoulders past the defender or when they move to place the defender outside of the 6-foot range. The five-second count resets whenever the player changes from dribbling the ball to holding the ball, or vice-versa. If you're incredibly indecisive or you can't pick out your team's position, a guy can get 15 seconds being closely guarded. By this time, the whole gym would have been snoring, bored as fuck.

It sounds all very complicated, I know, but you gotta be a really into the game to follow all of its intricacies. See, basketball isn't just about the big moves; it's the small things as well. You would think that this rule is lame and stupid but it actually helps promote continuous play. We'd all be morons – well, the other players would be – if players could just hold the ball above their heads, ladidi-fucking-da while waiting for the defender to get bored or tired and finally leave him alone.

But yeah, that small five second violation costs a fucking lot: Loss of ball.

You heard it. Five seconds of stupidity and you give the opposing team the ball. It's a pretty stupid mistake.

Kind of like what I did.

Of course, I should have seen it coming. I should have known that if I get a few perfect hours of happiness, the kind that clutches at my guts, things will eventually get screwed up.

Everything had been going so goddamn well. I mean, the stop by the lingerie store (Brooke Davis, I owe you!) had been fun and flirty and sexy and even if I just got a pair of black socks, the look on Haley's face when she opened what I had bought for her was just so goddamn precious I wanted to charge right back in and buy her more stuff. I'd buy her the freakin' store if she'll give me that same flushed, embarrassed look. She's so cute when she gets that way.

It was a wise decision to buy her something I know she'll like, even if I had been very briefly tempted to buy her that black, lacy underwear. I had pictured her wearing it and I couldn't get it off my mind. Of course, I had to force it into some secret place I can re-visit for later when, from across the room, she had suddenly looked up to glare at me as I held the small scrap of underwear.

I had winked at her, a silent, "someday, maybe, I'd get you one of these," grin plastering itself across my face.

Haley had rolled her eyes and mouthed, "In your dreams, Scott."

Which I had answered in an affirmative, enthusiastic nod of my head, "Like every night, James."

Thinking about it now, I guess I do deserve the pair of black socks.

And then there was the dinner by the docks. I didn't know how Brooke knew about the docks being my special Haley-place. I hadn't mentioned it to her or anything but it's a good thing that she did pick that restaurant because if I had planned this whole thing, I would have totally chosen the very same place, except I would have probably rented it out for us - just me and Haley. I didn't want to share her with anyone else when she's like that: all radiant and happy, looking so openly and trustingly at me.

Me. _Nathan Scott_.

No one has ever looked at me like that before. Like they could tell me their secrets and know that I will hold it like one of those unearthed treasures.

She trusted me with her secret. It's a treasure of a lifetime.

I can still clearly picture her in my mind. Haley James, sitting in front me, practically glowing, and her hair held back up in a simple, messy up-do, loose strands escaping and framing her delicate face. She had never looked so beautiful to me at that very instant and it wasn't because she looked so prefect around those soft yellow lights surrounding us or because she was giving me the gentlest smile. It was because she was opening up to me, her big trustful brown eyes looking only at me.

I want her to always tell me her little Haley James secrets, all of her hearts desires. I want her look at me that way. Always.

But then of course, Tim had to go and ruin it all.

I'm so going to wring Tim's neck the next time I see him.

Alright. Okay. It wasn't Tim who ruined it. It was me. I did it. I screwed it up. Again.

I'll never forget how quickly Haley's expression had changed from utter joy to confusion, then anger and finally, disappointment. I didn't think I'd ever feel that way. Like I had ashes inside my mouth and something burning was coursing through my stomach, thick and disgusting.

What a sad miserable loser I am.

It wasn't that I was ashamed to be her, it was never that. It was just… I didn't want Tim and the rest of the guys talking shit about Haley. I could practically hear their conversation inside my head:

_Man, I didn’t think Nate’s tutor be so easy._

_Yeah, Nathan just wants to tap that ass. He'll get bored with her soon enough._

_She's not even a cheerleader!_

_This will totally fuck Lucas up._

And Tim would go nod his stupid head and say, "Well, yeah, that was part of the plan. And Haley walked right into it."

Chuckles. Fist-bump all around.

_Idiots!_

I've heard them talk that way. And the sad thing is, sometimes, I'd even chuckle and nod my head and grin like some shit-faced idiot with them.

Well, I wasn't going to just sit there and let them have something to talk about later. I had to do something. Tim was going to make fun of the whole thing. I didn't want that. Of course, I could have been not a dick and told him to go screw his pathetic self; I'm on a date with Haley James, who's the loser now? But I always have to pick the easy way out. It's a thing I do. I haven't learned how to be brave yet. At least be brave when it should count.

What sucks the most was the fact that not only had I been an ass to her and had let her down, I've probably ruined whatever chances I might have had with her.

I've been given the second chance and I blew it. I fucking blew it all to hell.

And all I needed to do was to tell the truth. Those stupid five seconds when I hesitated, that was the end of it. I knew it. Even if I hadn't opened my mouth and denied Haley and the date, I knew I had lost whatever confidence and trust I have gained. And not only had I hurt her feelings, I had also proven to her, once again, what an incredible jerk I am.

The worst part was that I had made her doubt herself, I had made her feel like trusting me was her mistake, that it was her fault that she got hurt. I never wanted to hurt her, never wanted to be the cause of the tears threatening to fall from her eyes which she had bravely blinked away.

I can't even begin to describe how awful I feel, staring at the empty seat in front of me and thinking of Haley crying. God, even if I stay here the whole night going through the horrible way our dated ended, trying to rationalize it, it all comes down to the fact that I was being selfish and dumb.

Who am I kidding? I _was_ trying to protect myself and my stupid reputation – which really, if you think about it, doesn't mean all that much.

You see, the problem with Peyton and Brooke and I, is that we all think about nothing but ourselves. Of course, we all know that already, but we never tried to fix it. Why bother? I mean, whose feelings should we be thinking about it? Ours was the only one that mattered, right

Well, that was before.

Actually, to be exact, that was before Haley.

I remember the way she'd look at me all those time we were alone by the docks. I can see some glimmer of understanding of what she sees in me and it's pretty scary, because I don't want to disappoint her. She doesn't have to say it, I can see it in the way she'd tilt her head, her face so perfectly serene, not a hint of judgment in her clear brown eyes. I know that she sees me. Sees me like no else can, because no one had ever looked at me that way before. The little smile that tugs on her lips, it's a silent, unspoken confirmation that Haley sees some elusive kindness buried somewhere in me – and it's not just me. I've seen her look at people that same way. With Tim, with Brooke, with Peyton, everyone else. But it's different when she's looking up at me, because I know that Brooke and Tim and Peyton wouldn't feel the way I'm feeling right now.

Like I've been totally gutted and lain open, bleeding and aching and fuck, I just feel like scum.

I am scum.

I'm scum who's amazingly talented at basketball but still scum.

Haley had seen more than that, past everything else and I don't how she figured it out, that I have some sort of redeemable value in me since I actually don't believe it myself. I don't know anything about kindness, but if she thinks I'm capable of it, and then it's her, I want _her_ to coax it out of me. Beat it out me, if she wants to. If it will guarantee that she will forever look up at me that way again – like I am worth more than just the baskets I can make, then I'll… I'll be better. I'll work hard on being better for her.

And of course, I just displayed that oh-so wonderfully when I told Tim that horrible lie.

I ball my hands into hard fists, clenching my jaws.

I have to have another shot. Just one more. I won't screw it up. Not this time. Not when I realize just how much I want Haley James to be part of my life. Permanently. Not just in a few hours, couple of days kind of way. More like every minute and every second that I could have her with me.

And I will fight for that one last second, _second_ chance.

I just need to figure out how exactly to that. I pick up the tab, paid for the half-eaten meals and braced myself for a long, long walk home.


	16. The Winning Shot

**Chapter Sixteen:** The Winning Shot

"Home early?" Mom asks as soon as she spied me walking towards my room.

I let out a sigh, successfully stopping myself from rolling my eyes. There is no escaping my mother. Especially whenever I'm not in the mood. She gestures for me to come into the kitchen and because my brain has been crushed by the sheer weight of guilt I've been carrying around from my long walk home – stupid Brooke Davis and her stupid idea on not bringing a car! – I went in and sat down in front of her, seeing nothing. Well, not exactly nothing. Inside my head, I can still see Haley's brown eyes brimming with tears.

"I didn't cook dinner tonight, I knew you'd be out so…" she says apologetically and I hear someone snorting beside me.

It's my dad reading the sports section of this morning's newspaper. He likes to know everything there is on the world of professional athletes and so he re-reads everything at night, in case he missed something. Which rarely happens anyway.

Mom ignores him reaching out to quickly pat my hand. It's such an awkward gesture. Not at all motherly or comforting. I remember how Haley had done that same thing to me the first time and how she had lingered as though if I had told her to hold my hand, she would've, no questions asked.

"I can pop something in the microwave." She offers, sounding a little bit concerned, her face wearing varying shades of sympathy and curiosity. She already probably knows that I'd been on a sort of date with Haley. Lucas's mom must have told her. Or Uncle Keith. Or maybe they both did.

I frown at this a little. I wonder if they called mom just to let her know, warn her: if Nathan does something to upset Haley in any way--

Well, I've done it in all sorts of way. I guess I can be such a predictable bastard after all. A pang – no, something bigger than that? What's bigger than that? A load. Yeah, a truck load of shame settles at the bottom of my stomach. Squishing that wonderful mac and cheese I've half-eaten from our dinner date. At contact, the shame turns the mac and cheese into dust. Now I have dust and a truck load of shame on the pit of my stomach. Fun, right?

My non-answer is enough to stop my mom from asking me how my date went. If she had asked, I don't think I'd have the energy to be sarcastic. I would've probably let her know that I'm pretty much wrecked and ruined. _I screwed up, mom. I'm worried about Haley._ I clench my mouth shut.

Dad's the only one glad that I'm home early, for once. And so on this rare, wonderful occasion, he tells me to do my nightly free-throw practice. "You've been missing some, lately." He adds as an afterthought.

I am just too out of it to petulantly say no or smugly inform him that he's probably watching all the wrong games because I have not missed one or that he's probably reading the other Scott's stats, that'll show him but, what for? I'd probably start another argument and I'm just not in the mood for that so I stood up and wordlessly grabbed the basketball sitting innocently by the counter, like it's been there all night, waiting for me.

I walk out of the kitchen and into the backyard. I can vaguely hear my mom say something that effectively started the argument I was trying not to start. I guess sometimes, it's not always my fault. That doesn't make me feel any better though.

* * *

For two straight hours, I emptied my mind off everything and made perfect free throws. Dad watched for a few minutes, a glass of scotch on one hand, commenting a little this and that. He seemed to have finally noticed my mood because he tried to make small talks but when I only answered in "yeahs" and "uhms" and the occasional "whatevers" he gave up and doled out compliments instead. I wish he'd go away, he likes to keep tab on how much practice I put into this because he thinks I'd slack off over something that's so easily done. I could do it with my eyes closed. Have I mentioned that before? I think I have.

Anyway, now that I'm all alone and the house is finally dark and peaceful and quiet, I am sitting at the old bench my mom had brought from one of her business trips. It's an antique park-bench, she says, from Chicago. There are lots of antique park-benches in North Carolina, I know because I checked in the internet, but I guess Chicago sounds more romantic to her. Or far enough. Anyway, I sit there, clutching my basketball and watching the night sky reflected on the pool. Calm, glazed black-blue water. It's late but I can't sleep. I don't want to sleep. I don't want to lie in bed and think of Haley James.

But that's exactly what I am doing. Only I'm sitting on an uncomfortable antique park-bench from Chicago.

Haley is so achingly beautiful in a different way. Not like Peyton who exudes an air of sexy mystery or Brooke, wide-eyed and vivacious, red mouth always set in a playful pout. Haley's a lot simpler, with her wind-tossed dark hair and her clear, innocent brown eyes always so warm, always radiating with trust and optimism and compassion and something yet to be discovered. Something that I want to discover. Something I want to bring out in her.

Her face is so delicately structured and if I close my eyes, which I do, I can see her smile. She freely gives away that smile to anyone and everyone but there's this one smile that kinda makes my stomach ache. Thinking about it actually makes my stomach ache. I want that smile the most. I want to own that smile. I want it to be her Nathan Only Smile.

It's not just her smile that I want. I want her. I want all of her. From her near-impossible to understand ramblings to her many fierce lectures, her quietness and her girly-girl moments, her time, her attention, all her dreams and wishes and everything else in between. I want all of that.

The problem is she doesn't like me. She doesn't want me.

Not that I don't deserve to be not liked and not wanted. I maybe all sorts of a jackass but I would never pretend to be some sort of tortured, brooding guy, acting out all my pains and hurts by being a jerk. I am a jerk. It's the only way I know how to be. And saying that makes me even more of a jerk, I know. But I'm not going to blame my dad or my mom, or Peyton or the Coach or the whole team, or Lucas for the way I've been acting. I'm done with that. I act the way I act because I do and because I can.

And that's the important lesson of the day: I can.

I can make Haley like me. I can make her want me.

Of course, I need to be a better person to do be able to do that but I've been with her long enough, I've listened to her and remembered everything she had said about sharing and forgiving and being fair. I've watched her all the time and if I learned how to leap into the air to dunk a ball, then I can certainly learn how to be gracious and kind and honest. I can change.

I can even work on keeping my mouth shut if I don't have anything nice to say. Especially if it's about Lucas. I'll even start tomorrow. Tonight, though, later, I'm going to have to give Tim some shit. Guy deserves it. But tomorrow, tomorrow I'll tell her. I'll tell her that I'm sorry. I'll be sincere and repentant. I'll ask her if she could forgive me and if she can't, even if I want to, I won't beg. I'd give her time and space and I'd show her how much I've learned from her. Not just with Math and History and English but with everything else that truly matters.

And if by some miracle that Haley forgives me, I'll tell her that if she isn't ashamed to be seen with a guy like me then I would be more than proud, I'd be honored actually, if she would even consider me as a friend. And maybe from there I can work on making her see me as more.

I'd do all my homework, I'd be more patient, I'd let her choose the music we'd listen to inside the car when I drive her to school or to the café. I'd even pass the ball to Lucas more. I'll be civil with him. I won't ignore him anymore because ignoring him would be just like being mean to him, so I'd settle for treating him like a teammate, not like he's dirt or he's a bed-sheet stain. I can do all those things and more.

I'll come to her first thing in the morning. In fact, I won't even sleep anymore. I'll wait until morning comes and as soon as the first ray of light hits the pool; I'll be on my way to her house. She can't escape me there. She'd have to give me a chance to tell her all these things.

And this insane, severe lack of sleep should explain why at six in the morning, I ended up in front of her house, throwing stones on her parent's bedroom window.

* * *

I should have written everything that I was planning on telling her. I should. I didn't and now as Haley looks at me, uncertain, hurt, the light going out of her face, I grasp for words but those filthy little fuckers wouldn't come so I just stand there, like some unforgivable looser. I can feel my eyes widening, my forehead scrunching, my mouth turning down in a pout, my hand making helpless gestures as Haley tells me to buy apologies in bulk, walking away from me.

I am panicking here. Really I am. I don't do panicking. I panic, I bolt. I have to hold my ground here and stay for this. I deserve the wrath that is Haley James. Although, I have to say she seems very subdued today. Still biting and sassy, but she looks tired and her eyes are somewhat puffy. From all the crying last night.

Fuck.

I try to push the memory of last night's miserable date out of my head, I won't be able to concentrate and feel worthy of her if I keep remembering how she looked last night. Somehow, as soon as I've gotten last night’s horrible fiasco from out of my head, a memory resurfaced, totally without warning or reason. I try to ignore it but it comes to me in a burst of vision. Like a movie playing inside my head. No remote control to hit the stop or the pause. I'm forced to relieve it.

It's the first game I've lost a game as a Raven, freshman year. I've just gotten into the senior varsity team and practically everyone in the family – well, dad's side of the family anyway (which is really just my dad, my grandpa, my grandma) were watching that night. Mom was away for a business trip. Uncle Keith was there somewhere, I know he was.

Anyway, the first time that I got to play, it was in the last few seconds of the game. Coach had just called a time out. We were down by two. It was a crucial moment. We were on the brink of getting into the finals and Coach Whitey was out of options. Hamilton, the star player then, just got ejected out of the game for losing his cool, bad mouthing the referee and throwing a punch that would've been impressive had it not missed its target. I remember coach looking at me long and hard, his eyes darting back and forth from me, to the court, to the scoreboard and the time clock and then back at me.

Coach hadn't really trusted me all that much yet. I was young, cocky, and arrogant – I was Dan Scott's son, it was all that he needed to know – but he didn't have any choice. He pointed at me and jerked his fingers, indicating that I join the huddle. He explained the play, drew lines, circles, pointed to this and that and then finally: "Go with Nathan, they're not going to expect that. Pass the ball to Nathan." He looked up at me, his blue eyes clear like flames. "And you do what you can do, son."

Wow, like, no pressure.

I stepped into the court, breathing heavily, my palms sweating. The crowd was electrified. There's nothing more exciting than a basketball game with a side show of players letting their tempers get the best out of them. But Hamilton was the last thing on my mind. I was ready. I was fucking ready. I knew that the game was mine; this is the night that everything else would fall into place. This is where it will all start. I could feel it in my bones.

We ran the play coach had drawn for us. I had the opportunity to win and I took the shot. It was a thirteen-foot jumper; I vaguely felt someone pushing and me pushing back. What I can remember, what I can still envision even up to now is the speed the digital clock was counting until zero, that and the arch of the ball as it swished thoroughly into the net. It wasn't my best. Far from perfect but it went in and the game was tied. We were going into overtime. I gave Dan a wide grin, pumping my fist in the air as the crowd around me went absolutely nuts.

The euphoria of it died down quickly enough. The referees and the official decided that a six-tenth of a second should be put back on the game clock – why? Funny thing, I can never remember what that duckweed of a referee was thinking. All I could hear around me was the roar of the coward. It was deafening, a mixture of 'boos' and ally whoops – depending on which side you're on. I could barely hear my own dad screaming in fury. I could see Whitey throwing down his clipboard in frustration. The pen bouncing against the floor and rolling away from him.

I remember all that. Every small detail, even the way I had rested my hands on my knees, breathing heavily; sweat dripping and rolling down my skin. I remember looking around everyone, their shell shocked faces and the grim lines on their mouth. I remember remembering something like this happening once in one of Michael Jordan's games. When he had been a Wizard – his last attempt at greatness – yeah, something like this had happened before. And I remember thinking; well, six-tenth of a second is shit. You can't do anything. No fucking time to do anything. You inbound the ball, catch it and shoot – simultaneously. What's the worst that can happen, right?

I remember gamely strutting my freshman ass back into court, clapping my hands. "It's okay." I told my teammates, all those older boys who'd warily glance at me during practice; they taught me the lesson that rookies play hard, practice relentlessly, accept bruises and most important of all, complain about nothing. You don't go acting like you're the captain of the team, giving short pep talks. But I couldn't help myself. I was born to be a captain. I was born to this. I patted them on the shoulder. "It's gonna be okay." I told them. And I think maybe, some of them actually did believe me.

Freakin' weird – the things that we remember.

So anyway, the other team inbounded and passed the ball to Number 10.

Number 10, who weren't at all tall, not part of the starting line-up, a rookie like me.

I can't picture his face or remember his name (freakin' weird too, the things that we forget) all I can remember was the way he stood there in front of me; his jersey number was all that I could see. He paused deliberately, back rigid and about 6 feet away from the basket with the seconds flying, wheezing by, chocking him around the neck, he tossed the ball in the air.

This is where it gets fuzzy, like a cloud had obscured the view of my memory. I could make out the shape of the ball hurtling forward and the red-digital clock going from one to zero, a single red stick turning into a red box. And the ball went in.

It fucking went in. I kid you not. There was absolutely no way anyone could've made that shot and yet he did. Number 10 was brought home a hero and for a long time, that had been the worst night of my life. Even though coach had assured me that there wasn't anything that we could've done differently, aside from maybe locking up Hamilton inside his car before the game had even started. We wouldn't have won that game. It was just not meant for us and we're going to have to work harder next year.

I don't know why this particular memory is finding its way inside my head now, of all times, but I can feel my heart beating exactly the way it had that night: thumping at full speed, so loud it's almost enough to drown out the sound of every pained groans from our side and the maddening screams from the other end of the court.

I can feel it now, my heart reverberating inside my chest, in my throat, the panicked adrenaline pulsing in me as I stand bathed in yellow early morning light, on an unfamiliar street, clutching pebbles on my fist, listening to Haley as she tells me that there's nothing I can do that's going to surprise her anymore. She's figured me out and she doesn't want anything to do with me. This is it. She's going to walk away after this and she's never going to give me another chance.

But she's wrong. I can. I can surprise her still. And I will.

I will surprise the whole damn world, for Haley James.

Six-tenths of a second until Haley finally decides, finally realizes that she doesn't want me in her life. Six tenths of a second. What else was I supposed to do?

Six-tenth of a second is enough to win Number 10 a game; I hope to God it's enough to win me another chance at Haley.

I pause deliberately; back rigid and I throw everything away, flung out it into the wind: pride, guilt, panic, anger, bitterness and everything that had nothing to do with Haley. Everything that she wouldn't want from me, I let them all go. I take a step forward and close my eyes. Totally blind, I let my other senses guide me: the soft breathing sound she's making, her now-familiar scent – oh, geez, Scott: Just. Fucking. Do. It. my mind screams at me and half-lurching forward, I plunge right into the unknown.

The unknown is soft. And sweet. And smells faintly of flowers and grass and clouds and the air from the docks – from our docks.

I feel it sighing softly, wonderfully against my lips.

I am kissing Haley James.

I know I maybe be, at this point, delirious from lack of sleep and from thinking too much about Haley, but this is real. This is as real as anything could ever get.

I am kissing Haley James. And I know this isn't even a remotely romantic kiss. It's a kiss of a question. An apology. A statement. A promise. Alright, maybe I can call it a romantic kiss, after all. My hands are just itching to grab her. There was nothing more that I want than to wrap myself around her, pull her closer, deepen the kiss, kiss her more, feel her more but, close-fisted, I let the dead weight of my arms keep my hands to my side. Better not to scare her off.

You know when people say something about a moment in their life when they feel so lost and so found all at the same time – that's bullshit. I mean, how is that possible? When I finally got to kiss Haley that first three seconds, I couldn't even think. That first three second my mind just went blank. I can't figure out which way is up and down. Or where the hell I was or even my name. Everything has dissolved into nothing. Except this. This moment. And then when that purest of silence went away – the truth, the reality of this kiss, of Haley's lips – came crashing into me.

Slowly, like waking up from a dream, a voice inside my head frantically stats screaming: You idiot! You've crossed the line! It's too soon!

I had to stop myself from pressing into her. From willing her to kiss me back, even though the need to have her kiss me is so overpowering I can feel it like a force, like a physical weight inside my chest.

This is too risky, the voice warns me.

But another part of me angrily yells back: Hell yeah, it's risky, but so absolutely fucking exhilarating.

I tend to listen to that voice more often than not. And now you know why.

I hear my heart roaring louder inside my head. Like the sound of the gymnasium filled to its capacity, the familiar sound of my shoes squeaking against the floor, the screaming voices, slamming the ball in the basket, feeling the lights hitting me, the incredible rush of winning – it all feels like home – but then the noise recedes to a whisper, the raging energy of the crowd, the game stops almost immediately and it's just me and Haley and this kiss.

And it's peaceful and calm and this feels so much better than winning. The images that now plays inside my head is different, it has nothing to do with basketball, but everything to do with Haley and I.

 _Us_.

The two of us doing all those couple stuff I thought I was too cool and too busy to be bothered with. I see us holding hands, walking around everywhere. I see me making her laugh, stupid jokes and all. I see me kissing her hair, the curve of her neck, the delicate line of her collar bone. I hear her humming softly. I see her wrapping her arms around me, snuggling closer, cheeks pressed against my chest. I can see her surrounded by white bed sheets. Your bed sheets aren't white, a distant voice reminds me, but this is fine with me. It can be in her bed and that seems a lot sweeter, a lot more innocent. And sexier, too. I can see her blinking lazily up at me, her brown hair sleep-tousled and her eyes still heavy with sleep. I can see me leaning over to kiss her gently on the lips…

And then I feel Haley pulling back, ending the kiss.

I look at her face, the only image that's sharp and clear. Everything else is fuzzy around the edges. Actually, my head feels a little fuzzy. Like I've just finished one of coach's many brutal suicides and there isn't enough oxygen for my brain because my lungs' hogging it all.

Oh right, I realize, after a second, I need to actually breathe.

Some things linger and some things just blast their way into you. Everything that had disappeared from the moment I kissed her, it all went rushing back. I had to blink just to make sure that I know which reality I am in and I am in the reality where the kiss has ended and Haley is looking up at me, her brown eyes wide: surprised, confused and searching.

Officially, this reality sucks ass. The kiss felt as though it lasted a whole life time. No, wait, I take it back. It felt shorter than a sixth-tenth of a second. Too damn short. I need to kiss Haley again. Soon. Now.

I try to open my mouth to say something, maybe something smug, just to keep me from staggering back into her arms, like maybe, "I bet that surprised you, huh?" But words wouldn't come and it registers to me that not only had I just kissed Haley – without her permission, something that may warrant a death sentence, but I am standing in front of her doing and saying nothing. I feel like such a dolt.

And the ball is now in her court.

I can see the question in her eyes. Haley scrunches up her face, "Nathan, you shouldn't have done that." She whispers it gently.

"But I wanted to."

The simplicity of that statement seems to have struck her speechless and for a moment, she doesn't say anything. She blinks rapidly, as though trying to get a grasp of the million thoughts I know are flying inside her head. I watch her silently trying to keep myself from spewing out more apologies, entreaties, protestations. I shouldn't because I don't have the right words for those. I don't know the right words and the only thing I can do is show her by holding her and kissing her even more. I don't think I can, though. Not unless I know that it's okay for her. That it's what she wants.

Haley's face is beautiful and shadowy in the morning light. She swallows slowly and then: "Yeah."

I'll fall off my ass, is the first thought that crosses my mind as Haley jumps into my arms, but I hold on to her, wrapping my arms around her waist and then nothing else went inside my head except for: she's kissing me. Haley James is kissing me! Her arms is wrapped around my neck, pulling me down, her feet is inches off the ground. She fits wonderfully in my arms. And she's kissing me. It's all happening so fast and it thrilling, freeing, even reckless. It feels right. Perfect.

And I suddenly realize that it's what exactly Haley's feeling right now. It's what we're both feeling.

Haley's so close, I can feel her all erratic heartbeats. And yet, it's still not enough. I need to be closer. Closer still as my arms automatically tighten around her small frame. I bring my right hand up to her back, finally giving in to that long standing temptation. I let my fingers brush the ends of her hair, small playful twirling gestures, almost mirroring the way she's kissing me. But when I feel her tongue brush ever so lightly, ever so softly against my lips, I burrow my fingers deeper into her hair, mirroring the way I am kissing her now. This is too much sensory overload. I savor her taste just as I hungrily savor the silky texture of her hair. My hands are becoming impatient to get busy and I instantly recognize that as a sign to stop before I do something really, really stupid (like maybe a cop a feel, which I would never ever do to Haley, not until maybe when she tells me that it's okay).

Reluctantly, because I still have a few more minutes supple of oxygen in my lungs to make the kiss last longer, I pull away.

She's looking at me like she doesn't know her name and she wants me to tell her. To remind her who we are, where we are, what we're doing. I give her the same questioning look, because I have the same questions whirring inside my brain. After agonizing over kissing her, holding her, the next question is: now what?

Well, honestly, I'd like to kiss Haley some more. But I know this isn't exactly what she's thinking.

"Nathan," Her voice is low, soft, breathy and sexy as fucking hell.

The way she whispers my name stops my heart for the briefest moment. I swallow hard, breathing in deeply, inhaling her scent. Her sweet, sweet intoxicating fresh, clean Haley scent and I tell her, because I know it's the truth and I believe it in my heart: "It’s okay."

She leans her forehead against my chest as she slips back, feet on the ground. She's keeping her face buried on my chest. "It's going to be okay, Haley." I move my hand against her back, trying to calm her. I don't know if it's working, I can still her heart thundering against my chest.

Or maybe that's my heart?

Haley finally looks up to me. Her whole face is shining. She smiles up at me and I take possession of that smile. I stake my claim. That's my smile now. It's all mine. She arches her eyebrows, as though unsure of what the meaning of the expression on my face, I'm not quite sure too, but I dip my head lower, gently kissing her on the cheeks.

She's just opening her eyes when I pulled back. Haley keeps her eyes on me as she takes one small step back. I let her, although my hands stayed at the small of her back. This feels strangely sweet and intimate and I like the feeling. Haley tilts her head to the side, her hair catching a bit of sunlight, turning it all shades of deep brown, gold and even a hint of red. She murmurs quietly, "Okay, so you can still surprise me."

I can't help but smirk at her. "I'm glad that you let yourself be surprised, James."

Haley smiles her Nathan smile, my smile, before nodding her head. "I'm glad too."

I feel an exalted little shiver run down and explode at the base of my spine. I take her hand and this too feels sweet and intimate. I pull her closer and we set off. I don't have to tell her where we're going, she knows. Just as I know that we'll have some things to sort out; she's practically bouncing on her heels as she tries to keep it all in for now and enjoy this – our moment. She'll attack me with it as soon as she can't hold it off anymore. It's in her nature. But I understand. Whatever it is, it's not going to ruin us, anyway. It'll be something we'll both work on.

I know this morning isn't just going to magically make things simple. Haley is still Lucas's bestfriend. I am still Lucas's half-brother. Lucas will probably suffer some sort of hissy fit when he finds out. I'll let him have his fit. He's earned his right. Peyton still doesn't know what she wants. Lucas still wants my ex-girlfriend. Brooke and Tim still need to be thanked and yelled at for the night that was. My dad is still in ass – and he might forever be an ass. My mom is still not sure where she is and if she'll stay here at all. Something tells me that there's more to come, but that's all okay. Today, we'll just walk to the docks, where it all began and maybe I'll kiss her some more. I glance at her flushed cheeks, my smile still plastered on her now-nearly-kiss-swollen mouth and I am certain that I will kiss her some more.

A lot, lot more.

If she sits on the table and I stand between her legs, we'd be eye to eye. She won't have to stand on her toes and get a crick on her neck. I can play with her hair and run my hand across her back. We'd even keep score. One point for every innocent kiss on the cheeks, two for every open mouthed kiss on her neck, on her jaws, on her delicate shoulder, three for all the kisses on the mouth.

And who says this isn't the kind of sport I'd get into? I'd definitely master this game. And no matter what the outcome will be, I always win.

"Whatever you're thinking…" Haley starts; giggling as she playfully wags her fingers in front of my face.

We both giddily stumble and I'm quick to wrap my arms around her waist, steadying her and pulling her close. "What?" I ask her, arching my eyebrows, "What do you think I'm thinking?"

She blushes even more. "You have the silly cocksure grin on your face, Nathan."

"So? I can't have that silly cocksure grin on my face when I'm with you?"

Is it possible that all her blood had rushed up to her face? I peer down at her as she rolls her eyes at me. "Well, whatever it is, I'm not going to go for it."

I chuckle at her. "Oh yeah? Do you want to bet on that?"

Haley gives me a look, her eyes slanting, scowling at me. Although, I have to say, her scowl looks kind of sweet. "And whoever wins this bet of yours…" she trails off, looking at me with that happy, carefree expression on her face. Her happiness seemed to make her momentarily impervious to feeling guilty about being seen with me. Flirting so openly. Maybe time will come when she won't have to feel guilty anymore. I smile at the thought, hopeful. I look down at her, pulling her to my side.

"Winner takes all." I tell her, winking.

She laughs at that. Her nice, free, tinkly laugh and she nods her head, "Well, I have to tell you, Scott, I always win."

And I honestly believe her. "That'll be interesting."

Haley scrunches up her face, curious. "And why is that?"

I haven't kissed her since the last time. How long was it? Ten minutes now? That needs to be fixed. That's too long. I stop; swing her body close to me before kissing her on the mouth. Three points for Scott.

"I always win too." I tell her when I pull back, enough to drop a quick kiss to her hair.

Haley’s still blushing. God, is she ever going to stop blushing, not that I want her to, but her blushing makes me want to kiss her more and my thoughts gets effectively side-tracked. I watch as she stands on her toes, briefly kissing me on the jaw. "We'll see about that."

I grin at her. By count, I have 7 points. Haley now has 4. It's a close game, but here's a secret Haley doesn't know yet: we're both going to win this, hands down, no question asked.

-The End

**Author's Note:**

> This had been originally posted at ff.net under my then username, puplemud. I figured I might as well get all my shit together in one account and also to do editing. There are no changes in the original story, no matter how badly I want to change some things, just some minor corrections so whatever is in ff.net would essentially still be the same as the one I am posting here. This is me trying to be productive this quarantine.


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